


Stand By Without Flinching

by Elisacollette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9344513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisacollette/pseuds/Elisacollette
Summary: "When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching – they are your family." ~ Jim ButcherSummary: Most of the story takes place post- Civil War. Black Widow and Captain America have seen it all – apocalyptic battles, aliens, crumbling governments, flying cities – and they've survived. Going into hiding with two teenagers with super powers and PTSD? Natasha and Steve might have finally met their match.





	1. Fire in Her Soul

Almost a month has passed since Lagos. Wanda had spent most of that time in her room, torturing herself with news coverage that explicitly blamed her for all that had happened. Expert witnesses who had never met her talked about her fragile mental state and her dangerous abilities.

Steve had talked her out of her room that night for dinner – and it had mostly gone well – until Tony arrived to tell them that the Secretary of State wanted to meet with them. That could mean nothing good. Wanda fled the room as soon as she was able, back to the relative safety and security of her bedroom. She didn't leave again until late that night – she needed air and decided to hide on one of the balconies.

She expected Steve to eventually come and find her - or Sam. Vision was a possibility, but he still struggled with understanding emotion - especially hers. She and Rhody got along just fine, but she wouldn't have expected him – except – she would have anticipated him before her current companion. The teen was silent as Natasha entered the terrace and closed the door with an audible click. Wanda hugged her knees to her chest and allowed her dark auburn locks to fall in a curtain, doing a fine job of hiding her tear-stained cheeks.

Natasha sat in the chair next to Wanda very carefully, but with purpose. It was like all of her movements – measured, precise, and perfect. She relaxed into the chair, taking several deep breaths of the night air as she studied their surroundings. After what seemed like an eternity but probably measured only minutes, she spoke.

"Do you know how I got into this business?" She said, when she finally broke the silence.

"It is not my story to know," Wanda replied carefully. She desperately wanted to be left alone, but she didn't know anyone brave enough to tell Natasha Romanoff to go away. Not Clint, not Steve. Certainly not her.

"That's not what I asked," Natasha answered calmly. "I'm not here to lecture you – I know you hear things – what do you know?" Wanda had been like a ghost during her first six months at the Avenger's complex. She had been so broken over Pietro's death that she'd spoken very little. But Steve and Natasha had both noticed immediately that she was extremely observant. It was how they had begun teaching her before she even knew it was happening.

Wanda pursed her lips, thinking carefully before responding. "I know that you were young – and that it was not your choice. And that you worked for the Russians. I've heard the term Red Room but I don't know what it means."

Natasha nodded slightly. She knew Wanda was viewing her in the periphery. "Ivan claimed that he found me, orphaned, after a fire. I discovered later that he'd set the fire after killing my family inside our home. But, regardless, I was orphaned – and there was no one left to look for me. He took me to Madame Smerti," she said, smiling ruefully. "I was in black widow training in the Red Room before my mother's body was cold. I don't remember much about her – but I think I remember that she loved me. It might be just wishful thinking of a little girl, but – I like to think she did. My training did a lot to wipe away those memories. There were twenty-nine other girls in my age group who started training at the same time I did. Do you know how many of us become Black Widows?"

"One," Wanda said simply. She had heard this from Clint – or read it in his mind accidentally in the days before she had more control.

"You got it," Natasha said, nodding slowly. She sighed. "I watched two different girls who were shot – point-blank – for crying. There were three more that I was made to kill for the same offence."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm not angry with you, when you cry. I don't think less of you. I know you think I do. But I don't. It is simply a luxury that I could not afford for a very, very long time."

Wanda gave her a sideways glance. "Was this to cheer me up? You are very bad at this."

Natasha smiled despite herself. "You're a brat sometimes, you know that, right?"

Wanda nodded, smiling through her tears. "Pietro used to tell me often." Natasha smiled sadly – it was not often the young woman chose to speak about her brother. There was a long silence between then – far more comfortable this time. They watched the stars come out and light up the sky. "How do you move on, knowing you have killed innocent people?"

"I try to save as many as I can – and hope that somehow, the ledger balances." She studied Wanda before speaking again. "I know that multiple people have told you that Nigeria was not your fault. Let's clarify, though. You did explode a large building with innocent civilians inside." Wanda flinched. "But back up a step – you did it to save the life of your captain – which is noble – and really gives you credit for every life he saves after that day."

"If I would have moved the explosion up more – if I had concentrated harder – "

"Ifs and buts get you nowhere. Let's take another step back. Maybe we shouldn't have been engaging Rumlo. Perhaps we should have allowed him to take that biological weapon. Do you know how many innocent people would have died? The result just came back from the lab – depending on where it was released, it would have killed over 3 billion people. Almost half of the world's population. What you did in Nigeria helped stop that from happening."

"People are still dead."

"Yes, they are. It's unfortunate. But sometimes it's unavoidable. You know what happened in Sokovia. You were there. Did we have any options that would have saved every single innocent person?"

"No," Wanda agreed.

"And if we have done nothing – allowed Sokovia to come crashing down to earth again?"

"Millions would have died," Wanda said, parroting back the figured she already knew and had heard countless times. She shook her head. "That doesn't make those people less dead. It doesn't make me feel any better."

Natasha offered her an apologetic smile. "That just means you're a good person, kid. Trust me, that's not something you want to change. The guilt doesn't go away – but it gets easier to carry. I know it's cliché – but time does help."

The rest of the week wasn't perfect, but those unusual words from Natasha helped Wanda feel a bit more grounded. Until, of course, Ross showed up. His eyes were what bothered Wanda the most. He glared at them all - without looking at them. She could feel his hatred – without even attempting to read his mind. She sat quietly in her seat next to vision and listened as Steve, Tony, and Natasha spoke. She allowed herself one slip into Ross's mind – and he was too preoccupied to notice. It was long enough for her to understand the score. She saw what he intended for her – and it shook her to her core. She said little as they left his presence and regathered in the living area of the compound.

Ross intended to take her away – no matter what they decided to do. There was no end to this that meant freedom for her. She knew Natasha and Steve understood that in the way they looked at her. Vision and Sam, sweet that they were, believed they could stop it if the government came for her. She couldn't read Tony – but she wasn't sure he cared. He was so preoccupied with fixing what he believed to be his own wrongdoings that he couldn't see the cost of what he was proposing.

Wanda went to bed without speaking to anyone - and she tossed all night long, imagining herself back in the labs in Sokovia. New, shinny labs replaced those that had been familiar during her time with Baron Strucker and Dr. List. Sounds echoed – she must have fallen asleep at some point, because she woke at four in the morning, drenched in sweat.

Three days later, Wanda had slept very little and left her room even less. Natasha stood in the doorway to Wanda's room, observing the younger woman as she absently fingered the guitar that had been a recent birthday present from the Barton family. Almost no sound was coming from it – Wanda was simply going through the motions. Natasha raised her hand to knock on the molding of the door frame. Red energy flared but retracted almost as quickly – she was getting better at it. Wanda looked up and studied her. The older spy was dressed formally.

"Are you sure I can't talk you into coming with?" Natasha offered, smiling invitingly. "It's in Brussels. Not the most exciting city on earth – but it is somewhere outside your bedroom."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I haven't decided," she reminded her in a thickly accented, tired voice. "If I decide to sign, it doesn't need to be at a fancy ceremony."

"I'm going to stop in London first. Peggy Carter's funeral is later today. I thought Steve could use the support."

Wanda appeared thoughtful and her expression was reluctant when she finally answered. "I'm sorry – I can't." Natasha nodded.

"I get it. I'll text when I'm headed back. Try not to burn the place down – and please, get out of this room." Wanda rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Be safe," she called after the older woman in her mother tongue.

"You too," Natasha called back.

The two women did not cross paths again until the battle in Berlin. Wanda regretted knocking Natasha to the ground almost immediately – but she had been in the heat of battle. Now, the battle was over, and she found herself in the middle of a firing squad, every man in sight seeming to just be begging her to move. She could sense that their rounds were live – and deadly. There were no tranquilizer darts being pointed at Wanda Maximoff.

The man who seemed to be in charge pointed a different type of weapon at her and – before she knew what had happened, she was on the ground, convulsing. She heard Clint screaming at the men – "She's not fighting you – you don't need to do that. You're hurting her!" She wanted to thank him – to tell him to save his energy – but she couldn't speak – and then, it all went dark.

Natasha was in contact the moment she knew where they were. She was sick when she discovered that her friends – her family – had been transferred to the raft. Blowing every protocol she had regarding going off the grid, she reached out to Steve. She started moving as soon as he called her back, grabbing her bag and heading to the car she'd purchased with cash.

"Natasha? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "In the wind. Well, I almost was – but I just got intel from a friend. Wanda and the boys are being held in the raft."

"The raft?" Steve said, audibly angry. "That's the highest security prison in the world."

"I'm aware," Natasha answered sharply. "A friend will be in contact – you'll need transport. I'm sending structural blueprints. I can't make it there, Steve." She knew that she would complicate matters – she knew that Ross already had additional agents out looking for her. She needed to lead them away from the raft, not to it.

"You've done enough," he told her. "I'll take it from here. Will I find you again?"

"If you remember what we said at Lila's birthday, you'll be on the right track." He smiled wistfully, remembering the conversation and its contents well. It had been on a day when none of this seemed even remotely possible. A day of happiness and family.

"Take care of yourself, Nat."

"You too, Cap." She hung up and dropped her phone, smashing it against a streetlight pole before dropping it into a nearby garbage can.

It was Sharon who called Steve to offer transport. He tried to refuse because he didn't want to get her into trouble, but she wasn't hearing it. She wanted to help; it was the right thing to do in her book. And once she offered to help, she was as much a fugitive as they were. In addition to transport, Sharon had a direct and private link to Maria Hill, who knew everything – and was invaluable (even at a distance) in both strategy and knowledge.

It took them over a week to plan the break out – and every day was more painful than the last. Steve couldn't sleep, knowing where his friends were. But the planning helped create a smooth escape. Within five minutes of entry, every guard was knocked out and Bucky had already unlocked the cells from inside the control room. Steve opened Clint's cell first. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Cap." He hurried out of the cell and immediately went to the cell where Wanda was slumped to the floor. Steve forced it open while Bucky worked on freeing Scott and Sam. Once the door was open, her eyes flickered open just a bit. Her soft blue irises rolled – she couldn't focus.

"They've had her drugged most of the time," Clint said, the disgust clear in his voice. He reached for the straps of the straight jacket and began loosening them. Wanda started to whimper. "It's okay, kid. We're going to get you out of here. Cap came to save the day." Steve, careful not to hurt her, took the next strap and snapped it in half. Clint moved his hands so he could do the same with the others.

Sam was kneeling in front of Wanda now, looking at the collar as Steve and Clint got her out of the jacket. "Guys – we have to go," Bucky told them.

Steve was able to get his fingers on either side of the collar just in time to feel it shock him. He hissed as Wanda cried out, but he didn't loosen his grip. He pulled it apart and dropped it to the floor before he lifted her into his arms just as she sagged into unconsciousness. Bucky and Scott had gotten all of their gear and handed weapons to Clint and Sam. Despite Bucky's fears of it wearing off sooner, the sleeping gas kept the guards and soldiers out of their way – and the journey back up to the quinjet was quick and easy.

T'Challa met them on board and took Bucky with him back to Wakanda. He and Steve had already said their goodbyes, so they hugged one more time - and Steve promised him they would meet again. Once the two men were gone, Sam began flying the quinjet to the coordinates Sharon and Maria had provided.

"What happened to her?" Steve asked Clint in the back of the quinjet. He hadn't tried to look as he'd helped Wanda out of the prison uniform and into the yoga pants, t-shirt, and sweater that Sharon had packed. But it was difficult not to see the bruises littering her pale skin and the pain she was in when she moved.

"That's her story to tell," Clint responded, his voice bitter and his expression pained. "But she needs to get checked out – I know that's not going to be easy while being on the run – but the sooner the better."

They flew all night and landed in the place where they would part ways. It was an empty field and Wanda didn't even know what continent they were on – and she didn't ask. Clint knelt in front of Wanda and tried to meet her eyes. She avoided his, so he settled instead for taking her hands. "Wanda, you're safe now. I've gotta go check on Laura and the kids – but you'll be safe with Steve. Take care of yourself, kid. We'll catch up soon – and I want to see that beautiful smile when we do." He dropped a familial kiss to her temple and left quickly, before he could change his mind. It was too dangerous for all of them for Clint to take Wanda with him, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

On his way off the craft, he looked Steve directly in the eye. "You take care of her," he ordered.

"I will."

"Like she's your daughter. Like she's my daughter," Clint warned him.

"I promise," Steve said. "Go – take care of your family." He and Clint hugged and parted ways.

Sam was the next to leave after kneeling at Wanda's side to speak with her quietly. Then he joined his best friend and told him to be careful.

"You too," Steve said. "You know where you're going?"

"I know a few options," Sam answered. "And I'm taking Scott – I'll get him settled first. You take care of our girl."

"I'll try my best," Steve promised.

Sam, Scott, and Clint were gone within minutes of landing – it was more dangerous to hide together. But Steve kept Wanda by his side – she was frighteningly silent and passive. She barely moved on her own, only walking when Steve led her. He took her on two more flights, a train, and in a car before they reached their final – if temporary – destination. He only hoped it was the right place.


	2. Grace in Her Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading - a special thanks to those who left Kudos and to Monica and Iskeirim for commenting!

Chapter 2 – Grace in Her Heart

Natasha met them at the safe house in France after three days and Steve was extremely grateful. Not only was he sick after losing Bucky again, he was also tired and worn, and he was beyond his depth in dealing with Wanda. Although Natasha wasn't necessarily known for her warm and cuddly side, Steve knew that she would be able to help. She and Wanda had a lot more in common than either woman would ever admit.

The small spy closed the door behind her and Steve hugged her fiercely, lifting her off her toes.

"Good to see you too, Cap." She said softly into his ear.

When he put her down again, she took his hand and led him into the kitchen where she began immediately boiling water for tea. "I've been freezing for days," she told him. "I feel like I can't get the damp out of my bones." She looked up at him, eyes sparkling in happiness at seeing him.

"Where were you?" He asked. She looked as exhausted as he felt – and her hands were, indeed, icicles.

"Somewhere cold," she told him, winking. She changed the subject. "Everyone got away safely from the raft?" She leaned back against the stove, waiting for the water to boil.

He nodded. "Sam went underground after helping get Scott and his daughter into a safe house. Clint was gone almost immediately – he stayed to make sure Wanda was okay, but he was in the wind quickly after that."

"He's fine," Natasha assured him. "He's with Laura and the kids in one of my safe houses. I hate that they have to rebuild, but Tony knows where the farm is – so they can't go back." The teapot whistled. She located tea bags and began steeping two cups, leaving a third nearby and ready. "How is Wanda?"

Steve shrugged. "Not great. I don't know what to do. Clint said he heard them torturing her – apparently they don't see a lot of women on the raft and they took advantage." Natasha turned her piercing gaze to meet his. She frowned. "They were holding her with a shock collar and straight jacket. She got a few serious jolts just while we were trying to free her – I'm not sure how many before that. Clint and Sam said she wouldn't speak – the few times she tried, those bastards shocked her. I don't know if there's damage from that - I don't even know how we'd tell." Natasha knew the damage electricity would make, but she was currently in information-gathering mode, not sharing.

"And since leaving the raft?" She asked, eyes studying him as she handed him one of the thin tea cups. She sat at the table with another one, sipping it and still eyeing him over the rim.

"She's hasn't said a word – hadn't made eye contact – hadn't used any magic. Doesn't move unless I prod her. Clint said she might need to see a doctor – but she fought pretty hard to get away from me when I suggested it."

Natasha knew that even pre-raft, Wanda would have fought against that suggestion. Anytime doctors came up, she refused and said she'd been studied quite enough in her life, thank you. It had taken two sleeping pills and Steve carrying her to medical to get her leg set after she'd broken it during a battle.

Steve and Natasha spoke for a long time – about the battle, about the accords, about the fact that they couldn't go home – at least not while the accords were in place. Later that evening, with a fresh cup of tea and a saucer holding two pills, Natasha entered the bedroom occupied by Wanda. The young woman was curled under the covers – exactly where Steve had described leaving her earlier that day. Natasha set the cup aside and closed the door. Wanda was naturally curious – and so it was disconcerting when she didn't raise her eyes to investigate the newcomer. Natasha knelt down beside the bed to meet the child's eyes. "Hey, Wanda," she said softly. No response was offered. "Wanda, look at me, please." The light blue eyes dilated with scarlet energy before meeting hers. "I'm so sorry," she said simply. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

The younger woman said nothing. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed. "Sit up for me – I brought a cup of tea." Not giving Wanda a choice, she helped her into a seated position and handed her the tea cup. The child sipped at it, seeming to appreciate the warmth. Natasha saw one of her feet peeking out from under the bedding and reached for it, wrapping her hand around it. "You're frozen," she said chidingly. Wanda shifted away from her touch but continued drinking the warm beverage.

When she finished, Natasha didn't allow her to lay back down. She reached out to stroke her poorly braided locks. It seemed like a safe enough topic. "What in the hell did Cap to do your hair?" Wanda didn't move and didn't answer. The older woman pulled her hair from the messy braids and smoothed it out, appraising the new color – a medium dirty blonde – and a ragged cut that just reached Wanda's shoulder blades. "Okay, let's fix this. We can start with that," she suggested. In the bathroom, she turned on the shower and tested the water. She turned back to see Wanda still sitting on the bed, staring down at her lap.

"Wanda," Natasha said, walking back into the room. The younger woman still wasn't looking at her. She turned off the water, dried her hands, and walked back to the bedroom. Dropping to the bed again, she situated herself beside Wanda. "I don't know for sure what you went through in that prison. But I can imagine it was horrible. You didn't deserve anything they did to you – and I'm sorry I wasn't able to stop it." She paused and gathered her thoughts. She had still been in good graces with the government when Wanda, Clint, Sam, and Scott had first been taken into custody. But she'd been able to do little more than figure out where they'd been taken before she needed to run herself – or be thrown in one of the same cages.

"I can't think about anything but wanting to kill them again," Wanda seethed. It was the first thing she'd said in days – and it was brimming with anger and pain. Wanda grasped her hands into fists and Natasha gritted her teeth as the floor began to shake – but she forced herself not to move. She was not afraid of Wanda – and she needed to make that abundantly clear.

Surprising them both, she wrapped an arm around Wanda and pulled her close, embracing her. The younger woman broke down into sobs and cries. That night, after she settled, Natasha focused on making Wanda more comfortable. She dyed her hair a much more flattering shade of blonde and gave it a proper cut that allowed her natural waves to curl and bounce. She pushed the young woman into a warm shower and poured warm soup down her throat. By the time she was swathed in a soft nightgown and tucked back under clean sheets, she was no longer shivering. Natasha still had Steve warm up several hot water bottles to place at the end of the bed.

Natasha showed Wanda the two pills she'd brought with her. "Steve said you've had trouble sleeping. Why don't you try these? They'll help you sleep."

Wanda shook her head. "No more drugs."

The older woman continued her push. "Wanda, you've had these before. They don't have very heavy side effects. Remember? These were what you took at the base." Wanda looked at the pills – they were familiar. She had been put on sleeping pills several times when she'd first started training. Between the loss of Pietro, the loss of her home, the new surroundings, new teammates, learning to control her powers, and general training – her sleep schedule had been a mess. She had suffered from insomnia for a solid two months before Natasha and Steve sat her down and made her agree to try sleeping pills to reset her sleep cycle. It had worked. It would probably work again.

She reached for the pills in Natasha's hand and swallowed them with a sip from the water glass Steve had left on her bedside table. Natasha moved to a chair by the window and stayed until Wanda was sleeping.

Steve wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when Natasha showed up in his bed. On one hand, he had learned never to be surprised by his partner. On the other, he was never really expecting a woman in his bed. "I've had enough of being apart," she said simply, not looking up from the book she was reading. He accepted that and settled in next to her, picking up his own book. They read for a few minutes until she turned out the light. He did the same with his lamp and slid down into the covers, his left arm falling to rest on her hip.

"How is Wanda?" He asked.

"Sleeping," Natasha answered. "She will be until morning. You can rest, Steve." She did feel him relax then and she sank further against him, thankful to have the solid feel of him so close.

Steve allowed Wanda to do what she wanted – and he feared pushing her. But it was Natasha's best skill with Wanda – pushing her without breaking her. Less than a week after she arrived, she'd gotten Wanda into a routine that pulled her out of bed each day – she had even smiled a time or two at something ridiculous Steve said.

They were sitting down for dinner on a Sunday when Natasha broached a much needed – but much avoided conversation. "I spoke with Maria. She was able to find a well-respected doctor in a village about an hour from here who won't ask questions and who can be trusted."

"I am fine," Wanda told her, glaring at the floor.

"Yes, I can tell from the way you walk like you've just been horseback riding for the past three weeks straight."

"Please – "

"You don't have to tell me – or the doctor – anything. But you do need to get checked out to make sure there's no permanent damage. No arguments." Steve shifted uncomfortably – Natasha knew he hated forcing her to do anything – but this was for her own good, so Natasha held strong.

Knowing that she had no chance of avoiding it when Natasha was so insistent, Wanda gave no more arguments. She dressed herself the next morning in clean clothing Natasha laid out and allowed herself to be led to the car. Steve went with them. He promised he wasn't even going to be inside the building – but he was going with them in case they needed to leave quickly.

The doctor's office was quiet – a small town office with a waiting room that might have held five people total. Natasha and Wanda were the only ones waiting – and they were called back quickly. No names had been exchanged, so the nurse simply smiled and gestured to them.

She took Wanda's height, weight, and other vitals. Natasha could see that her blood pressure was through the roof. She squeezed Wanda's hand as the nurse handed her a gown, asked her to change into it, and then left. "Please try to relax."

"Not currently possible," Wanda responded in a dry mutter. She quickly changed into the thin cotton gown and sat back on the table, hugging herself to stay warm. Natasha threw her sweater back over her shoulders while they waited for the doctor. Wanda sat silently and Natasha paced the room, listening for any signs of a problem. There weren't any. The doctor came less than five minutes later and introduced herself. She only spoke French and Wanda spoke none, so Natasha translated. The doctor took blood first – and disappeared with it. When she returned, she explained that a nurse was running the tests she'd asked for – and that it wouldn't take long to receive the results.

Wanda had grown paler than usual at the loss of blood and she washed out completely when the doctor asked her to lay back. Although she stood at Wanda's side and saw nothing, Natasha knew the damage had to be bad – because the doctor had absolutely no poker face. She explained to Wanda that she had a few infected spots that needed to be scraped out, cleaned, and stitched. Wanda said nothing but Natasha nodded her head, giving permission. The process took over an hour. Wanda never complained, but Natasha knew she was in pain – she was trembling from it. The doctor gave her painkillers along with the antibiotics.

Once finished, she told Wanda she could get dressed again and promised to return with the blood test results. Wanda redressed, saying nothing. She shook so heavily that Natasha had to hold her up while she worked. Eventually, she was swathed again in a dress, sweater, and shawl. She pulled the familiar rectangle of fabric over her shoulders and sat in a chair against the wall while Natasha paced.

When the doctor returned, she motioned for Natasha to sit and then pulled a chair for herself across from the women. "Your iron levels are very low – you should take a supplement to raise them. Iron deficiency can be very problematic."

"That can cause you to be cold, right?" Natasha asked.

The doctor nodded. "I have some here for you – four pills each day. Once that runs out, over-the counter will work – but you'll need to take at least eight each day, depending on the dosage." She handed the bottle to Natasha, who slipped them in next to the other two. She explained the doctor's words to Wanda, who nodded.

The doctor looked apologetic, but continued. "Your HcG levels are elevated, an indication of a very early pregnancy." She saw the desperation in Wanda's expression as Natasha explained her words. "I can give you a pill – you take one now, and one tomorrow – it should end the pregnancy before it takes hold."

"Yes, please," Wanda answered shakily once Natasha translated. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she took the first dose in the office and they waited for the required amount of time. Natasha took the next dose from the doctor, along with the literature, and thanked her. The doctor was paid in cash and the two women walked back to meet Steve. Natasha was holding Wanda up as they walked.

He looked concerned, but Natasha shook her head at him, insinuating that he shouldn't ask. Wanda slept for the entire car ride, through Steve carrying her to her bedroom, and through the rest of the night. Natasha woke her up the next morning to offer her a glass of juice and the remainder of the pills. Wanda took them without comment and curled up around the hot water bottle that had also been provided.

"I can't believe I did it," Wanda told her in a whisper. "But I can't imagine – I can't take care of a child from one of those men. I can't take care of a child at all."

"Stop torturing yourself," Natasha answered softly. "You did what you had to do. Having a baby on the run is dangerous for you – and for the baby." Wanda spent the rest of the week going between her bed and the bathroom. Steve was a bit shocked when he understood what was going on and Natasha had to shake him out of his 1940s sensibilities before he spoke with Wanda.

By the second week the bleeding was nominal and Wanda could make it to the living room and kitchen again. She was alone with Steve – Natasha had gone on a trip to the market. She was reading a book in the living room and looked up as she realized that he was studying her. She set the book aside and met his gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said finally.

Steve looked confused. "Why are you sorry?"

"I know you're disappointed in what I did – "

"Oh God, Wanda." Steve moved from his chair and sat across from her on the coffee table. "Wanda, I am not disappointed in you. I'm sorry you had to do it – but I understand why you had to. And the only people who should be ashamed of themselves are those men at the raft. You didn't do anything wrong." She shuttered as every bit of rejection she had been preparing for flew right by – it wasn't coming. She accepted Steve's arms and embrace, crying over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. She had been building up a wall in the week she'd been in bed – and now that it was unnecessary, she folded completely.

By the time Natasha returned with fresh produce and protein, the two were playing a game of chess and the only signs of the heart-to-heart were the dried tear streaks on Wanda's face. Natasha said nothing about them and instead began making dinner while Wanda beat Steve in their game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to let me know what you think. Favorite things? Things you'd like to see. The general outline of the story is formed, but there's always room for improvement. Thanks for reading - please comment!
> 
> Peter will be showing up soon, no worries!


	3. Bridges He Burned

Chapter 3 – Bridges He Burned

Natasha sat at the kitchen table, studying the pages she'd brought up on her laptop. Maria was still feeding her information, helping to keep her aware of where the UN and State Department were searching for them. So far, their current safe house was still secure. Wanda lay on the sofa, reading one of the hundreds of books that lined the shelves on the living room walls. Both women looked up when the door opened and Steve entered, looking grim.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asked immediately.

Steve settled into the chair next to her. "Tony called." She was silent – waiting for the explanation. Wanda sat up, setting her book aside and rearranging the heavy blanket in her lap. "He needs our help. Well, Peter does. Four men tried to take Peter – Stark thinks they were hired by Ross. Peter was able to get away – but not before he accidentally killed one of the men. Based on the accords, he's going to be arrested for using his powers against civilians."

"But they were trying to take him," Wanda objected.

Natasha shook her head. "My God. The revisions are just making this thing worse by the day. Is he sneaking him out of the country? What does he want from us?"

"He has to stay on the law's good side – to try to change it, hopefully. He wants us to keep an eye on Peter. Nat, he didn't just kill a man. His Aunt May was killed during the fight." She shook her head and closed her eyes, gathering herself. Within ten minutes, a decision had been made – they would travel to meet Peter and then move to another safe house with him in tow.

Before leaving the French countryside, Natasha and Steve made time for one more conversation with Wanda. She was expecting it – they were not subtle when it came to _talks_. So when Natasha asked her to take a walk, she was preparing herself for some type of lecture or discussion. Steve caught up with them on a path in the woods and Natasha led them toward a hilltop that showcased the coming sunset in splendor. This really was a beautiful place to be hiding, Wanda mused.

"What is this about?" Wanda finally asked as she settled into the grass, one of her mentors on each side.

"We want to talk to you about something – before anyone else becomes involved," Steve told her. "When Lagos happened, we knew that, one way or another, the government was going to come for you. We were trying to come up with a solution that would keep you out of prison."

"To be honest, Jane and Tony have been working on it since you came to the Avengers. It was Steve and I who changed his mind and convinced him to create a tool instead of a cage." Natasha slipped her hand into her pocket and came back with two bracelets – a thin, polished iron that gleamed like silver. Each was engraved with the same graceful, delicate pattern that embroidered her Scarlet Witch jacket. "This is an option," Natasha told her sternly. "Not a requirement."

"We are not afraid of you – and we don't want you to be afraid of yourself," Steve inserted.

"But we know that you worry about something happening accidentally – when you're not intentionally using your powers. These work like the safety on a gun – you can still use your powers, you just have to take these off first."

"You do not have to wear them," Steve insisted. "It's just an option."

Wanda reached out and touched one while it was still in Natasha's hand and it caused her to wince. She pulled back and studied them carefully. "Tony intended these to be shackles, I imagine?" Wanda asked.

"Tony is afraid of things he can't control," Natasha told her. "And you are something he's never imagined. But you'll notice that these are not shackles. They are, in fact, bracelets. They can be easily slipped on and off. Once off, you can use your full powers – even if they're just in your pocket."

Steve's heart hurt as he watched Wanda think about the prospect that had just been laid before her. She was afraid of herself and did often worry about her self-control – and knowing that her teammates were working on something to contain her power had to make that much worse.

"What if I say no?"

"Then I'll put them away and we won't talk about it again," Natasha told her. "The only reason we're telling you about this now is that we're going into hiding for an elongated period – and it might be easier for you to have some help controlling accidental use of your powers. We know that you work really hard to control your emotions – and this might make it just a bit easier."

Wanda lifted one of the bracelets from Natasha's hand. She rolled her magic around the fingers of her left hand. The scarlet energy disappeared as she slipped the bracelet into place. Without pausing, she slipped on the second one and folded up into herself, her head resting on her knees. The feeling was stifling; her power was surging through her like water sloshing through an overfilled pipe. But it had nowhere to go. Wanda sobbed as the feeling settled over her and she tried to regain control over her breathing.

Steve wrapped her in a strong embrace while Natasha absently rubbed her heaving back in soothing circles.

Wanda didn't sleep at all that night – her body was still trying to adjust to the feeling of being filled to the brim with capped power. She tossed and turned, reaching several times to fling the bracelets off and across the room. She knew it was an option – Steve and Natasha wouldn't fault her for it. But she had to try. If there was a way to keep her power under control by something other than her emotions, she had to try. She broke down into tears multiple times that night and the next morning, when she got up to prepare herself for the day, she saw that her eyes were bloodshot and ringed with bags.

Pulling on a soft black dress, stockings, and boots, she grabbed her bag and headed to the kitchen. She wrapped a red shawl around her shoulders as she encountered the gust of winter air Steve brought in when he walked back inside. He had started the car to warm it – she could hear it rumbling.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes sympathetic and probing. He was wearing a normal jeans and t-shirt combination with his brown leather jacket. Natasha rolled her eyes as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, sharp heels complementing a pair of perfectly tailored pants and a soft pink sweater set. She wore a set of pearls and her hair - now dyed a similar blond to Wanda's - was much fussier than she usually kept it – curls perfect and pinned back in a manner that was almost reminiscent of the 40s. She shook her head at both of them.

"You're both wearing the same thing you would have worn a month ago – before you became wanted fugitives. Maybe want to change it up a little? Trust me, people are going to be looking for that jacket and that shawl." They both looked confused, so she sighed. "Okay, let's try this. Steve – button down, jeans, blazer, loafers. Go." She offered a hand towards Wanda. "Come on, I'll help you."

She took Wanda back to her bedroom where she had an entire closet full of things she might want to wear on the run. Lots of choices. Eventually, she talked the younger woman into blue jeans, a white blouse, gray sweater, and coordinating scarf and loafers. She looked like any other innocuous college aged kid.

"How are you doing with those?" Natasha asked, tapping on one of the bracelets as she helped Wanda change out her normal jewelry for thin, elegant, and understated pieces. Apparently, Wanda thought, they were posing as rich people as they traveled. Her original jewelry, the pieces that meant something, went into a small box that Natasha stowed in the lining of her purse. Wanda looked at her bracelets as Natasha began playing with her hair.

"It hurts," she admitted eventually.

"How?" Natasha asked. Wanda looked at her to make sure she wasn't making fun. "If you can explain it, maybe it can be changed. I'm not sure I understand how it can hurt."

Wanda shrugged and followed Natasha, who pulled her over to a stool in the bathroom. She allowed the older woman to plug in a styling wand and start in on her hair. "It keeps my powers inside," Wanda said, trying her best to verbalize how it felt. "I feel like it's clawing at me from inside, trying to get out. It's better now than it was last night. I think it will get easier," she admitted.

"You don't have to wear them," Natasha reminded her. "It was an offer, not an order."

"I want to try," Wanda assured her.

"Okay," Natasha agreed. She finished with Wanda's curls, spritzed them with something, and then walked over to the medicine cabinet. From it, she pulled a small orange bottle. She handed it to Wanda. "We're about to get on a flight for 25 hours – and it's going to be very uncomfortable if you're crawling out of your skin."

"What are these?" Wanda asked, not recognizing the name on the bottle.

"Anti-anxiety," Natasha answered. "It may help until you get used to the bracelets. One at a time – once every four hours – no more than that." Wanda took one and handed the bottle back to Natasha, who opened an empty Tylenol bottle and swapped in the anti-anxiety medication instead. That bottle went into her purse.

Between her lack of sleep the night before and the small yellow pills she took every few hours, Wanda easily slumbered through most of the flight. Most of that time she curled up against the window with her pillow and flimsy airline blanket. Several times she started to have nightmares and Natasha or Steve gently shook her awake.

They met Tony less than an hour after deplaning. It was in the middle of a public park in Sydney. He was not well hidden, but he didn't need to be – he was not a fugitive. He was sitting on a bench next to a young teenaged boy – Wanda knew he was the boy who had begun to call himself Spiderman. Natasha motioned for them to head toward a series of shops. They did, Steve firmly holding Wanda's hand as they did. Natasha met Tony alone – there was always the chance that he was playing them. They had taken many precautions, but this last one would ensure Wanda and Steve had the opportunity to get away. No one could free Natasha if they all ended up in prison.

If Tony was surprised by her blonde hair and expensive clothing, he said nothing. "Natasha, you remember Peter." The young boy looked up at her obediently and she could see that he had been crying for days. Real tears. Eyes red and cheeks stained with tears, he looked exhausted. And so, so young. He was, Natasha reminded herself as she studied him. Now she had not one, but two teenagers in her charge who needed untold amounts of therapy – which would not be available to them.

"Hi, Peter," she said softly. "I'm so sorry about your aunt."

"Thanks," he said, his voice breaking. His eyes turned back to the pavement.

"Listen," Tony said, standing up next to her. They walked a few feet away from Peter, just far enough that he couldn't overhear. "I'm trying to get this cleared up. He's just a kid – Ross is going way overboard with this one. Once we get his name cleared – " She wanted to tell Tony off about how Wanda had only been a kid – about the untold amounts of torture she'd undergone because of the accords he'd pushed for. But it wasn't the time – and it wouldn't solve anything. She interrupted him.

"He'll be safe until then," Natasha promised. It was also her code to tell Steve and Wanda that it was safe. She had swept the entire place first – and now from Tony's behavior, she could see that he was alone. Well, almost – he smelled like Pepper – Natasha assumed she was at least in the country.

Within two minutes of uttering the phrase, Steve was at her side. Wanda stood back, keeping her distance from Stark. "Cap," Tony said, holding out his hand.

"Stark," Steve said, shaking it.

"How's Rhody?" Natasha asked.

"He's on his feet – doing therapy. Not back to 100%, but he's walking. And that wasn't something we were sure about a few weeks ago."

"I'm glad he's doing well."

"She's not looking so great," Tony said, nodding towards Wanda, who was now sitting on a nearby bench watching birds duke it out over bread that a little girl and her father were spreading on the ground. They had walked a short distance and stood between the two teens, Steve and Natasha with their eyes on Peter, Tony's on Wanda.

"She was tortured and abused for at least two weeks," Natasha responded to him. "She never had time to process the accident in Lagos. She's lost the bit of stability that she'd found with the Avengers." She paused. "It's going to take some time."

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know they were going to lock them up like that – "

"They were criminals in the eyes of the government. What else was going to happen?" Steve's voice was terse and invited no response. He had more arguments but he knew they would serve nothing, so he didn't speak. He could beat Tony all over again for the additional trauma Wanda had experienced on the Raft. But what would it achieve? Nothing. Instead, he walked away to sit next to the young woman.

Silence stretched between the two remaining Avengers.

"It won't be safe – all four of you trying to go into hiding together."

Natasha rolled her eyes; she certainly knew more about falling off the grid than Tony. "Our choice are limited. Wanda's struggling – her powers are spotty – and she has no idea how to go into hiding. Peter is too young to be on his own – even if he weren't dealing with new powers and a recent loss. We'll make it work."

Tony handed her a sealed package of papers. Sealed by Clint, she could see immediately from the markings. She knew what it contained. Birth certificates, IDs, financials – everything they needed to hide in plain sight. "Those came straight from birdbrain – I haven't looked at them. I won't know how to find you," he told her.

"It's for the best," Natasha reminded him – and he nodded.

"The kid – He – he's a good kid," Tony told her. One option would be to point out to him how he'd put Wanda – another good kid – in a terrible position. But now was not the time. Instead, Natasha smiled gently.

"I can tell." She paused. "We'll take care of him, Tony."

"I know," he said awkwardly. "Is there anything I can do – for you? Or for Wanda?"

"I'm fine," she responded. She glanced over at Wanda, who was now standing a mere two inches from Steve. If Tony weren't there – she would probably be clinging to the captain. Natasha shrugged. "There's nothing Wanda needs that money can buy." Tony nodded – he knew that. "Just do what you can to get the accords rewritten – so eventually she doesn't have to hide. She needs therapy – and stability. She's not going to get either on the run."

They went to dinner in a small restaurant not far from the park. Peter was quiet – which they all knew from their limited previous interactions was odd for him. He picked at his burger and looked around frequently – all three of the avengers could tell that he was frightened. "Peter, it's safe," Natasha told him finally, her voice gentle. "Steve and I canvased the place first – we can see all of the entrances from where we are. No one knows we're here."

"And if those men come back, I'd be happy to kill them with my mind," Wanda offered in a nonchalant voice. Peter looked at her and saw a small smile forming. He smiled back before staring again at his plate.

"I don't foresee a need to kill anyone," Steve told her. "And Peter, we are here to keep you safe. I know it's easier said than done – but try not to worry." Peter nodded and picked up his burger, taking another small bite.

After dinner, they drove four and a half hours before stopping for the night. Although privacy would have been nice, they opted for keeping one another in sight instead. Natasha climbed into bed with Wanda while Steve shared with Peter. All of them woke at three in the morning when Peter started having a nightmare. Luckily, he started yelling before he flew out of bed, so Steve was able to catch him. He calmed down as soon as he woke, shrugging off all questions and concerns. He curled back up in bed and didn't sleep another wink.

The next morning, they started out early to finish their drive. "Where are we going?" Peter asked, breaking the silence in the car after twenty minutes. He hadn't possessed the energy to ask the day before. Natasha glanced at Steve before turning her head enough to see Peter.

"Our flight is in Melbourne. We'll be at the airport in about four hours."

"Where are we flying to?"

"You'll see when we get there," she said simply. Peter sighed softly and slumped in his seat, clutching at the small device Tony had given him before he'd left. It was a music player with all of Peter's music downloaded to it – and anything else Tony's AI had thought he'd like. It was a bit antiquated but it also couldn't be traced – the only reason Natasha had allowed him to keep it.

Wanda sat with him in the back seat, her head leaning against the glass, her blue eyes staring out into the deserted land transected by the highway. Neither teen discovered their destination until they boarded a flight from Melbourne to Moldova and settled in for another day-long flight.

"Are we staying in Moldova?" Wanda asked Natasha quietly, several hours after they'd boarded. Natasha could hear the tremors in her voice.

"No," she promised. "Just a stop-over. We're not staying in Eastern Europe."

Wanda simply nodded, but the older woman could see that she was relieved. Eastern Europe had not treated her well.

While at the safe house, Natasha worked on their disguises. She handed Steve a box of hair dye and – before long – his blonde locks were several shades darker, suspiciously matching up to Peter's natural color. They all had new clothing to change into – Steve and Peter ended up with things that might have been in their closets back home – both relieved to shrug into t-shirts and jeans.

After setting her hair in gentle curls, Natasha pulled on jeans, a white blouse, and a deep brown sweater with a matching belt. Chocolate pearls, a white gold bracelet and watch set, and a diamond engagement and wedding ring set completed the picture. While she waited for the others to finish getting ready, she stood at the dining room table and went through her paperwork. Most sets of documents were stowed safely in the lining of her high-end designer bag. The first set, she separated – a driver's license and bank card for each of them, passports. She added several additional credit cards to Steve's pile and looked through the birth certificates and social security cards before placing them back inside a folder in her bag.

Wanda appeared, clearing her throat as she walked into the room. She did not look amused. She was swathed in a blue flowered dress, blue sweater, and blue flats with little bows. "I look like a dork," she said flatly.

"You look like a normal teenager," Natasha told her. "And that color is pretty on you." Wanda almost looked pleased, but then lifted the small pile of paperwork that had been set aside for her. "Emma?"

"It's the second most common name for girls your age in the country where we're headed."

Wanda flipped through the rest of the documents and set them back down on the table. "The birth year is wrong," she said.

"I know," Natasha answered. "Why don't you go start water for tea? As soon as the boys get down here, we can talk."

Twenty minutes later, they were gathered around the kitchen table, looking at the new documentation. "Can we eat something while we go over our cover story?" Peter asked, looking hopefully between Natasha and Steve.

"We just ate," Natasha said, referring to the lunch they'd made when they'd arrived. Peter shrugged and grinned.

"I'm a growing boy." The spy stood, searched through the provisions they'd brought, and tossed him an apple and a protein bar. Peter studied them and then grinned appreciatively.

"Thank you."

"Just pay attention," Natasha told him. He grinned at her again – that smile was going to be the end of her, she knew it already. "It's very unconventional for so many of us to be in hiding together – it's our only option right now, so we need to make it work. There is one way to live together without arousing suspicion." She exchanged looks with Steve and he nodded. She pointed at him and then at herself. "We play the parents." She gestured at Wanda and Peter. "And you play the kids."

"Can I not play a kid who is actually my age?" Wanda asked. The birth year on her papers was three years younger.

"That will only raise questions as to why you're not in college. It's easier to do this way – you'll pass as 16." Wanda grimaced but said nothing – she knew her options were limited. She knew they never would – but if Natasha and Steve left her to her own devices, she would be captured by the UN forces in no time. And likely be put right back in the cage Steve had rescued her from.

They went over their cover stories for hours – Natasha asked all of them question after question, trying to throw them off. Wanda was the best at it – Peter was the worst. But by the time they made dinner, they had their stories straight.

Their first night in Moldova was quiet. Everyone was exhausted and went to bed without much activity. Steve and Natasha were the first awake the next morning – almost at the same time. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he answered in Romanian.

"We're not leaving this house until we travel to Moscow to catch our flight. You don't have to speak the language."

"I should practice," Steve responded, again in the foreign tongue, causing her to smile.

"Whatever you say, my captain," she answered her own perfect Romanian. Natasha heard movement to her right and whispered Wanda's name. Steve listened and nodded.

"I don't think she slept all night."

"It'll get easier – eventually she will." She squeezed his hand, willing the concerned crease in his forehead to ease away. "I'll make breakfast," Natasha suggested. "You're on coffee duty."

"Hey, Peter, want to take a walk around in the woods and see what we can see?" Steve asked after breakfast. Peter nodded, clearly excited to do something other than sit around in the house. They dressed in jackets and boots Natasha approved of and set out on their journey.

Once they were gone, Natasha helped Wanda finish the remainder of the dishes and then began to brew another pot of tea. Once finished, she sat at the kitchen table and invited Wanda to join her. "Going into hiding is going to be difficult." Wanda nodded. "We know that you've been through a lot lately – a lot since we met, really."

"I'm fine," Wanda responded, earning a sad but amused smile from Natasha.

"That is shit and you know it."

"There's nothing to be done – "

"There are options," Natasha said, interrupting. "If we were back at the base – what we should have done when we first got you back to the base – instead of throwing you directly into the battlefield – we should have set you up with someone to talk to. We were wrong to ignore that option."

"I do not want to talk."

"I know," Natasha responded, fighting a smirk.

"Is this why Steve left?"

"Steve left because you have him wrapped around your little finger – and he's not prepared to make you do anything you don't want to do."

"And you?"

"I have no such compunction."

"First, we are in Moldova. Shrinks do not exist here. You are certainly not qualified. And anyone who is would report me to the authorities."

Natasha smiled. "You are intelligent, I give you that." She sighed. "No, there is no one qualified in Moldova. There are very few people qualified in the world, considering what you can do and the decisions you've been forced to make. Very few people would understand that. And I'm not sure if anyone can. But we have to try."

Wanda knew that when Natasha made up her mind, there was no changing it. She could beg, plead, flirt – nothing would budge the older woman. Steve was an extremely easy target – and he had a soft spot for the young witch. Natasha cared for Wanda, but fell for none of her attempts. "Who would possibly agree to this without compromising our cover?"

"Sharon Carter,' Natasha answered. "She was with Shield for years – one of the good agents of Shield," she added. "She has a doctorate in psychology from Standford. She knows about the world of the enhanced, she's studied Jane's work. So, she's as qualified as anyone is ever going to get. And she helped us escape. She's certainly not going to use therapy sessions to help someone find us."

"You want me to go to therapy – through Skype?"

Natasha shrugged and raised her tea cup. "It's not ideal, but yes."

"No." Wanda was stone faced and serious. Natasha simply quirked her lips into a smile and stared directly at the younger girl until she began to squirm. "Fine," she said, after two minutes. The older woman smiled again.

"Good. Drink your tea. We're calling Sharon in twenty minutes."

"Today? No," Wanda said, trying to stand up. Natasha had the toe of her boot linked through Wanda's chair, making it impossible to move.

"Today – yes," she responded. "Drink your tea." Wanda did actually drink her tea – because it was peppermint and she thought she might vomit. Natasha led her upstairs to the bedroom where she'd slept the night before and opened a laptop on the desk. "The signal can't be traced to this location – even if someone were to find out and try to break into Sharon's system."

"I don't want to do this."

"I'm very aware," Natasha responded. "Try – please." Wanda rolled her eyes and then watched as Natasha logged into a private video chat session and made a call. Within a minute, they were connected to a blonde woman that Wanda recognized – if only slightly. She had seen her speaking on several occasions with Steve and Natasha on base. She wore a pretty gray blouse that Wanda imagined belonged under a well-tailored suit jacket. A single diamond sat at the juncture of her collar bones and one twinkled from each ear. Her blonde curls were perfect and her smile kind.

"Hey, Natasha. How are you?"

"Hanging in there, Sharon. It's nice to see you. How are things there?"

"Boring, compared to the chaos a few weeks ago. The UN thought they were closing in on Bucky, but it was a false lead."

"Too bad."

"Yeah," Sharon agreed with a knowing smile.

"Wanda is here with me." Natasha moved the computer so that the camera centered on Wanda, who jumped back a bit in surprise.

"Wonderful. Hi, Wanda."

"Hello," she said skeptically. Natasha stood, her hand falling to Wanda's shoulder.

"I'm going to give you some privacy – I'm going to find Steve and Peter. Don't use the computer for anything else, please."

Wanda nodded shortly and watched her leave. Once the front door closed, she looked back at Sharon, who was studying her from another part of the world. "How are you, Wanda?"

"How should I be?"

"Personally, I would probably be curled into a corner – I'm not here to judge. Only to help if I can."

"I don't see how that's possible."

"Can we try?"

It was difficult to be angry with someone who was being so reasonable, so Wanda nodded. She spent the better part of an hour conversing with Sharon, answering questions and trying to stay calm when the older woman asked about Pietro and the Raft. Sharon knew when to back off – and she did before Wanda hit her breaking point.

Wanda was surprised, as she lay on the bed later waiting for the rest of them to return, that she did feel better after speaking with Sharon. They'd hadn't really gotten into anything heavily, but it was nice, not have to try so hard to be fine -at least for an hour or so. She decided she would give this scheme an opportunity, at least to start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review - let me know what you think, what your favorite parts are, and what you'd like to see.


	4. Far Side of Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - and for those of you who shared your thoughts and kind words. I hope you enjoy the next part.

 

Chapter 4 The Far Side of Pain

After leaving Moldova, they traveled for three days – back and forth across the continent – by car, train, and airplane, never making a straight shot – until they reached the location they would call home for at least a few months: the Netherlands. They arrived at the house – a large enough cottage that looked cozy, modern, and comfortable – by way of an SUV that Natasha had somehow gotten her hands on at the airport. They carried their meager luggage into the place and went about searching for audio, video, or other dangers.

They were all exhausted from travel, even Natasha – who was by far the most familiar with being on the run for lengths of time. She didn't sit down – she knew that once she was, she would be down for the count. They had stopped at a grocery store to stock up on food for at least their first week – and she asked Steve to bring in the bags. He did, and they worked together to stock the kitchen. Wanda and Peter took their own bags to the rooms they decided on and unpacked. When Wanda reappeared, she filled the teakettle she found on the stove and started it to boil.

"Where's Peter?" Natasha asked.

"Sleeping," Wanda said. Natasha looked at her watched and shrugged – he might actually sleep all night if they left him alone.

She and Steve began making something light for a late supper and Wanda took her tea into the living room, exploring their new space. The house was furnished already, in a style that was homey and warm. Wanda liked it, she mused as she found her way over to the overstuffed red chair by the fire. She loved it, if she was being totally honest. It was cozy – thick fabrics and landscape paintings done in pretty colors. It was much more home-like than the Avenger's complex, which was modern and sleek, just as Tony liked it. This, Wanda felt, was a home – or at least had been at some point. Perhaps it could be again.

After they had been in the new house for three full days, things started to feel normal and calm. Peter had kept largely to himself, so once things were more settled, Natasha and Steve sought him out in his bedroom. When she knocked on the door frame, he looked up from the book he was reading while he was also mindlessly throwing a soft rubber ball around the room at odd, fast angles. He grabbed it the next time it came to him and placed it on the bed next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "too noisy?"

"No. You're fine," Natasha told him. "Can we come in?" Peter nodded and scooted back on the bed, closing his book. She sat at the desk chair and Steve sat on the other end of the bed. Natasha looked at the large book he'd set aside and raised an eyebrow. "What are you reading?" Peter tilted up the cover to reveal a textbook on physics. High level physics, if the title matched what was inside.

"Was that here?" she asked. The house had been filled with bookshelves and hundreds of books – but she'd mostly seen novels. The book he held was something most people wouldn't have in a home library.

"I brought it with me," Peter said. "I was just starting it when I left New York – and I just grabbed it on instinct when Mr. Stark told me to pack a bag. I know it seems kind of silly to carry it around – but I was moving into honors physics next semester, so I was getting a head start. And now – well, I'm not really sure what's going to happen now." He looked so frightened and alone in that moment.

Steve cleared his throat – he was heart-broken for the boy; Natasha could see it clearly. They could all feel the distress that Peter was in – his youth coupled with the tragedy and uncertainty was painful to watch. "Peter," he said. "I wish we had answers. We don't know what happens after this. The important thing right now is to keep you and Wanda safe – and far away from Ross."

Peter shook his head. "I don't get it. What does he want with me?"

Natasha pursed her lips and leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "Nothing good," she finally answered. "He's not intending to help you – or any enhanced individual. He would like nothing more than to keep us all in cages and study us like lab rats until he needs us to fight – and then he expects us to fight for him."

"That doesn't sound like a great plan for anyone," Peter said.

"It's not," she answered with a small smile. "That's why we're hiding – and staying off his radar – and all of the agencies, really." She paused. "I know you have a lot of questions – but right now, we wanted to talk to you about what it means to stay off the radar."

"You can't contact anyone you knew before – not Tony, not any of your friends – no one."

"I can't let me best friend know I'm okay?"

Natasha shook her head. "That wouldn't be safe for you or him. You can't use any social media – or any logins you ever used as Peter Parker. Email, shopping sites, gaming sites. Those accounts need to stay dark."

Peter nodded. Natasha looked sad then, but she continued. "We know you are really great in science – and that you love it." Peter's heart sunk – he knew where this was going. "You can't do what you did before – when you start school, you can't show any great aptitude for it – you can't win awards or science fairs or have your work published. Even under a pseudonym, someone paying close attention might be able to pick out your work based on what you've done in the past."

Peter nodded. It made sense. Several of his projects and papers were published – he had won several grants and competed in science fairs and inventor's conventions before. "I can do it," he said. "Science is cool and everything, but it's not worth my life. Or yours. Thank you guys, for doing this. I know you didn't have to – and Mr. Stark didn't really have anywhere else to send me – so, thank you."

"You don't have to thank us for doing what's right," Steve told him. They talked for a bit longer and Steve tried to get Peter out of his bedroom, but he remained there again that night, save for the short time he appeared for dinner.

Late that night, Steve sat in bed with a book, but his eyes were focused on watching Natasha, who was getting ready for bed. She finished brushing her hair and caught his gaze in the mirror over the little vanity. "What are you staring at, Steve?" She removed her rings and bracelets, earrings and necklace. She reached for a bottle of lotion and began moisturizing while waiting for him to answer.

"What are we doing?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Going to bed," she answered simply.

"Nat," he said softly. "That's not what I mean, and you know it." She rubbed the last of the lotion into her hands, turned out the overhead bedroom light, and went to sit next to him in bed.

"We are together after being painfully separated over a few stupid decisions. Do we really need to define anything right now?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him again.

"I would be more comfortable that way," he admitted. "I think. Depending on how the definition process goes."

"Which is exactly why I feel it is a premature discussion," she told him. "Do we really need to know when our choices are extremely limited?" She asked. "If one of us isn't ready for a commitment, what are we going to do? Split up? Someone sleeps on the couch? This isn't an environment where we can really risk being anything but united."

Steve studied her. "Do you really think we're in a different place with this?" He asked.

She smiled coyly. "I know we are, Captain Rogers. I'm not exactly the poster girl for commitment."

He leaned back against the headboard and tilted his face so he was gazing more comfortably at her. "Natasha, after the fall of shield, you disappeared for a while – and I understood that. But once you came back, you were here – and you have been for years – with me whenever I needed. I don't know if you even realize it – but you've made commitments. You are dependable, whether you think so or not. There's a reason that Tony called me when Peter was in trouble. Most of that reason was that he knew I was with you."

She stared at him for a long while and finally said. "Steve, I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this – with you –for the long haul. Is that good enough for now?"

"Of course it is," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. The discussion ended there, but the last bit of invisible wall he'd felt between then seemed to dissipate. Their random touches, meaningful glances, and quiet talks increased – the intimacy between them blossomed in a way that neither noticed right away.

Wanda was a bit more attentive. Two days later, she watched carefully as Natasha left the house, Peter in tow. The spy had kissed the soldier on her way out the door – and neither had seemed surprised. Wanda moved closer to Steve, who was busy pouring himself a glass of water. "Since when do you two kiss?"

"I really have no idea," Steve said, smiling. Wanda grinned back, thrilled to see how happy he seemed.

"Do you suppose you should figure it out?"

"Does it look like I'm in charge around here?"

She laughed again and shook her head. "Good luck in your adventures, Captain." She took her mug of tea and walked to the living room to pick up her book and continue reading.

Wanda and Peter were perfectly happy with the way things were in their first week. He had – fairly easily – convinced Natasha and Steve of the necessity that was a video gaming system and he'd spent most of the week playing games or exploring the woods with one of them. Wanda spent her time sipping tea and reading books. She'd made it through at least half a dozen in the first week. When she forced herself not to think about her situation or the people looking for her, she was actually quite content.

So they were both less-than-thrilled when Natasha informed them that they were starting school the following week. They were at the dinner table, and both teens had stopped eating at the pronouncement. "Why do I have to go to school?" Wanda asked, trying her best not to whine. She knew from Natasha's expression that she'd failed in that goal.

"The younger you start out here, the better," Natasha told her. "And the best way to stay under the radar is to do normal things – like going to school." It was an English speaking school – there were enough in this country and in the world, really, to keep Peter and Wanda enrolled no matter where they went.

As part of their cover story, Natasha was a stay-at-home mom. That gave her time to work on keeping them safe and hidden – and building a case to clear their names. Steve's cover as a traveling consultant meant he could come and go without suspicion, investigating rumors and tips. But they were both home on the first day of school, when the tension was high. Steve watched uncomfortably as they both prepared for the day in ways that showed their nerves – Wanda was almost silent while Peter prattled on constantly. Wanda looked about ready to vomit at any second and Peter wasn't far behind.

"It's just school," Natasha reminded them as they left the house. Wanda sat in the passenger seat, looking pale and nervous. Peter was in the back seat, flushed and interrupted in the middle of whatever nonsense he'd been telling her to distract himself.

"I haven't been to school in years," Wanda reminded her. She and Pietro had dropped out after their parents had died. There was no money to pay for all the food and clothing they needed, let alone something extravagant like tuition or book fees. Natasha nodded slightly. She knew Wanda was terrified of many aspects of attending school. She's purposefully talked to Peter about school in Queens, trying to ensure that Wanda overheard and had an idea of what the school day was going to look like.

Natasha pulled into the lot and parked, not going into the drop off lane. She looked back at Peter. "Your phone?" He pulled it out of his pocket and flashed it at her.

"You will text me," she reminded him.

He grinned and nodded. His eyes lit up as he watched several kids with school bags skateboard across the parking lot and into a skate park he hadn't realized was directly across from the school. His second request once they'd settled in (and after he'd gotten his much-desired gaming system) was a skateboard – and he had it with him. Natasha smiled and rolled her eyes. "Go," she told him. "But do not break your neck – and do not be late for school."

"Have a good one, Mom. Emma, see you inside." He smiled again, seemingly tickled that he remembered their cover. He was away from the car before Natasha could answer. Wanda clearly had no plans to. Her eyes were focused on her hands, which were trembling.

"Why don't you take your bracelets off for a few minutes before you go in?" Natasha suggested.

"You want the car to blow up with us in it?"

"That bad?"

Wanda shook her head slightly. "I don't know if I can do this. There is so much that could go wrong."

"That's true to just about every one of our days," Natasha reminded her. "But don't you think it might be worth it?" Wanda looked at her as though she were losing her mind. Natasha tilted her head. "Come on, you don't see any merit in finishing high school? I know you like to learn things."

"School isn't about learning things. It's about social hierarchy."

Natasha smirked. "I think you're being a bit dramatic."

"I was never good at school," Wanda admitted. "I was fine with the academics, but I hated everything else. The other kids, the bullies, some of the teachers were mean. But at least then I had Pietro," she added softly. "He kept me from being the weird one sitting alone in the corner. He kept the bullies from preying on me. He kept me floating in a world I didn't understand how to survive."

"You have survived much worse than high school bullies," Natasha reminded her. "You can be successful on your own – you are not weird," her voice tapered off and Wanda scoffed. "You're not nearly as weird as you think you are. And Peter is social too. I'm sure he'll help you. And if it really is as bad as you fear it will be, we'll figure out something, okay?" Wanda nodded. Natasha reached over to clasp her hand.

"Give yourself a break, Wanda. Calm down. They don't know you here – you can be who you are, there are no expectations. Just be yourself."

"Easy for you to say," Wanda responded. "You're a trained spy, going home to do spy-related things. I'm a witch, going into a high school to pretend to be normal despite the fact that I can move things with my mind."

"If it makes you feel any better, I am a currently retired spy who is actually going home to do laundry – because when we decided to put together this cover, I didn't know that by agreeing to be the mother, I was going to then become the only person responsible for doing laundry."

"I help with dishes," Wanda said in defense.

"I'm talking about laundry."

"I don't like laundry."

"Neither do I."

"I'll go do laundry if you let me skip school."

Natasha laughed. "Good try, myshka. Go. Be brave. Try to have fun. And do your best to keep Peter out of trouble," she added, watching as the kid hopped a curb on his skateboard on his way back to the school building. He had two boys talking to him as they went. "Be good," she added. Wanda sighed and finally exited the car, giving Natasha one last vexing look before disappearing into the school.

Once home, Natasha made a call over the computer, using several different pieces of software and hardware to make the call untraceable. After several moments, Maria Hill appeared on the screen. Her eyes widened when she saw her friend and Natasha watched as she walked away. She heard a door close, a sound machine turn on, and Maria returned.

"It's so good to see you," she said. "Is this safe?"

"I wouldn't be calling you otherwise," Natasha informed her wryly. "We're fine. All in one piece."

"Peter and Wanda?"

"Teenagers with superpowers and PTSD, what could go wrong?" Natasha asked. Maria shook her head.

"Seriously, Nat."

"Seriously, better than I expected," Natasha answered. "Peter is taking all of this in stride. I know he misses his aunt, but since he left the US almost immediately, I don't think it really had time to sink in." She paused. "Wanda – She's still suffering from Lagos and the raft. Hell, she's still suffering from Sokovia and Pietro. But she's keeping it together better than most would in her situation."

"You and Steve?"

Natasha shrugged. "I'm used to going off grid. I've never done it with anyone other than Clint before." Her eyes caught Maria's. She knew if she wasn't quick, Maria would pick up on her transforming relationship with Cap. So, she changed the subject. "Speaking of… "

"The UN forces caught wind of Sam twice now – I have to believe he's doing it on purpose to keep them away from someone else – Scott and Cassie, maybe. He can't be stupid enough to have been almost located twice. But everyone else has been laying low – no sign or word of Clint."

"How is T'Challa?"

Maria grinned. "I enjoy him," she said. "He just keeps daring the UN to arrest him. They won't, of course. It would be a political nightmare for them. But it's hilarious to watch. He walked out of a meeting with Ross last week – it was priceless."

Natasha smiled. "He's a good man," she answered. "How are you? Is Ross leaving you alone?"

Maria shrugged. "The usual. He's having me followed. He thinks he has me bugged. He thinks I'm going to lead him to you." She shook her head. "Nothing to worry about, Romanov."

Natasha nodded. "Have you gotten any of the footage from the raft?"

Maria looked contrite. "I have something, but it's still encrypted. I'm working on it – but since I can't go through any official channels, it's going to take some time." Natasha nodded. They spoke for a few more minutes and disconnected.

School had gone well for Peter – he spoke non-stop about his new friends, his classes, and how much better the cafeteria food was compared to his old school in Queens. Wanda had much less to say, but she admitted it hadn't been terrible, so they left it at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review! I hope the characters seem genuine enough. I feel like I'm taking them out of the normal zones a bit, but I feel like this story puts them in a situation with very different priorities than they have in the movies - so I hope they still seem in character for the situations they're in. Would love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Patterns of Normalcy

Chapter 5

They fell into a pattern that week – and by Friday, things felt normal. And for all four of them, that was an abnormal feeling. They were all beginning to enjoy spending time together – and sat down to eat together every night. Peter was able to keep things surprisingly amusing and light with anecdotes about everything imaginable from movies he deemed "old" to things that had happened that day in school.

On Friday of that first week of school, Wanda had made a lasagna and they sat down to eat. When there was a lull in conversation about the day, Peter asked a question that had clearly been bouncing around in his brain for a while. "So, who is the strongest Avenger? I mean, if it were really a contest? Is it Hulk, or Thor? Or that Vision guy?"

Wanda was intently staring at her plate, putting a great deal of concentration into her salad, which she had saved for after the lasagna. Natasha and Steve looked amused. "There's no way to actually measure that," Steve said. "And we were a team, so everyone's strengths were important."

"Oh, come on," Peter said. "I've seen all of you guys on TV – in New York and Sokovia. I know you're all great. But if you really had to pick the strongest…"

Natasha smirked a bit and nodded her head toward Wanda, who looked like she would like to melt into the floor. "I don't like this conversation," she said, shaking her head as she lifted her eyes from her plate.

"You?" Peter asked. "I mean, no offense. But - "

She smiled lightly, waiting for him to dig himself a hole.

"Tread carefully with your train of thought, Peter," Natasha warned him. She thought he was thinking what most other men in the world thought – _but you're a girl_. That wouldn't hold up well in his current living situation.

"Oh, it's not 'cause you're a girl," Peter said. "No, trust me – if I thought girls couldn't be as strong as boys, my Aunt May would have beat it out of me a long time ago." They all smiled at the earnestness in his voice. "No – it's just that you don't seem to use your power all that often."

She turned to look him in the eye. "Do you do all of your moving about by swinging from the ceiling, simply because you can?"

"No – but only because it has to be a secret in public – and I didn't think Natasha or Steve would think that was cool if I did it around here."

"They wouldn't," Natasha agreed, picking up her wine glass and sipping at it while she continued to listen.

"Well," Wanda told him. "My powers are not quite as much fun – and they can hurt people if I'm not careful. So no, I don't use them unless I need to."

Peter looked thoughtful. "So, like, how many bad guys could you take down at once? Normal, human bad guys? What if they were enhanced bad guys? How many of those guys could you take on at once?" Wanda looked at Steve, then Natasha.

"Do I have to continue answering him?"

"No," Natasha responded. "Peter, that's enough. If Wanda doesn't want to talk about it, she doesn't have to."

He looked disappointed, but also apologetic. "Sorry."

"That's alright. Pietro was far more annoying." She picked up her plate and carried it to the sink. She cleared it and set it on the counter to be washed with the others. "And talked almost as much." She refilled her wine glass about halfway and sat back down at the table. "Almost," she repeated as she retook her seat.

Peter frowned. "Do I really talk too much?" The other three laughed, with Natasha trying the hardest not to.

"I didn't say it was _too much_ ," Wanda assured him. "It's just a lot – comparatively. Tony is the only other Avenger who is nearly as talkative."

"You're an angel compared to Tony," Natasha told him. "Don't worry about it. Talk all you want – as long as it's not during battle. You did that a lot in Berlin – and it will eventually slow you down."

Peter looked at her in surprise. "Do you think they'll let us fight again?"

Steve and Natasha exchanged a glance and she lifted her shoulders slightly. "I'm sorry, Peter. I shouldn't have said it that way. I know you want answers but we honestly don't know what's going to happen. I believe that the world, whether they want us or not – needs us. But we can't fight at risk to our own lives and freedom. So, unless the accords are highly revised – " She changed her words a bit when she saw the tightening in Steve's jaw. "Unless the accords are repealed and the Avengers are given control over themselves again, we won't be fighting, protecting, or avenging."

"What happens if a bad guy like Loki tries to take over the world again?" Peter asked.

"The UN has their own forces," Steve answered. "Hopefully that will be enough until they realize the mistake they've made."

Everyone was sobered a bit then, and the rest of the evening was quiet. The next day, Natasha and Peter went grocery shopping – and to whatever other store Peter could talk her into – while Wanda and Steve took a walk through the woods.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked, once they were away from the neighborhood.

Wanda nodded. "Ok, surprisingly. School is a surprisingly effective distraction," she admitted. Although she still worried, focusing on mundane tasks like homework and studying kept her from spending all of her time in a panic. "And Peter is amusingly distracting," she added, smiling.

Steve nodded. "He's something, isn't he?" Wanda nodded – and they were quiet as they both knew that Peter reminded her a great deal of Pietro. Not identical in personality, but both mischievous and silly and fun.

Wanda eventually picked up the conversation again. "Have you spoken to Sam?"

Steve shook his head. "No. But Natasha has a messaging system set up – and he signaled just last night that he was safe."

"Good," she said. She stared up into the canopy of branches, watching for the birds they could hear above. They were flirting with danger, staying this far into the winter. "Will they ever stop looking for us?" Her voice didn't betray the extent of her fear, but Steve knew it.

He sighed. "I don't think so – not until we find something to make them. Natasha's gotten some inroads into information that we may be able to use to blackmail Ross. But we need to find it and verify it – and put it to use. It's going to take time."

They walked for another mile or so before turning around and heading back to the cottage. Natasha and Peter were back, and he was absently helping her with dinner. He was attempting to reading his physics book and peel potatoes at the same time. Wanda hung her coat and took the peeler and potato from him.

"You're going to get blood in our food," she informed him. He looked up at her, surprised she was there.

"I was reading about particle waves."

"Read about particle waves away from the food," Wanda suggested. Peter left then, and she and Steve took over helping with the meal.

After they sat down to dinner, Natasha told them that a neighbor had stopped by while they'd been walking. "The neighbors are snooping," is how she actually put it. "Someone stopped by today with muffins," she said, pointing to a basket on the counter. "We should probably do something normal so they can see us – or they won't stop."

"We can play basketball in the driveway," Peter suggested, looking quite pleased with himself. "There's a hoop."

"No," Wanda said. "We can't. You can't either. I saw you attempt it on the playground yesterday," she teased. Peter flushed red and Steve and Natasha smiled. He might have been terribly coordinated in some respects, but he was still an awkward teenager in many others.

"Why don't we just stick with a walk," Steve suggested.

After the dinner dishes were put away, they shrugged into light jackets or sweaters and did just that. Peter more bounced than walked, occasionally getting ahead of them and then circling back. It took them only three houses before a neighbor came down from her porch to introduce herself.

" _Well, hello_ ," she said with a smile. " _Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Maria Bakker_."

" _Hello_ ," Natasha replied in flawless Dutch. " _I'm Natalie – this is my husband James and our children, Emma and Noah_." The woman was delighted to meet them and kept them for a good ten minutes. Peter smiled a lot since his Dutch was still fledgling, but Wanda and Steve were able to keep up with the conversation. After they bid her goodbye, they walked for another few houses before it happened again – this time by an entire family. The walk around the neighborhood, which ran about half a mile, took almost two hours – but their cover was sold convincingly to a large chunk of their neighbors.

They were in the Netherlands for two weeks when Peter's nightmares started coming more frequently – eventually nightly. He seemed fine during the day – and went to bed around ten. Without fail, he was screaming and crying by midnight. He often ended up dangling from the corner of the ceiling or hiding in the top of his closet. He did not want comfort – and he was embarrassed if anyone checked on him. After making that mistake once, Natasha and Steve remained in the bedroom they shared, listening to his nightmares from a distance. After several days of this, he was exhausted. He was uncharacteristically cold if anyone tried to talk to him about it. On the fifth night, when he woke screaming, he couldn't stay in bed. He wished he were somewhere familiar – he could use a walk around the city at the moment. Walking in a suburban neighborhood or the woods surrounding it in a strange country seemed like a bad idea. Instead, he settled for going into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator.

He wasn't expecting anyone, but the light over the stove was on and Wanda was there, making tea. He turned around to go back upstairs, but she spoke without turning. "You don't have to go. I won't bother you."

Peter stopped and turned back toward her. "It's not a bother – it's just – "

"You don't want to talk about what makes you scream in the middle of the night," Wanda suggested.

"Yeah, not really."

"I don't blame you," she answered. "Tea?"

Peter wrinkled his nose and shook his head. She smiled. "Hot Cocoa, then?" His eyes lit up a bit, so she moved around the space and started a cup of milk heating on the range. She poured hot water into a teapot and dipped her tea ball inside. She carried it and her cup to the living room and set them on a table next to the sofa.

"What are you doing up?" Peter asked. Wanda gave him a look and he nodded; he had woken her. "Sorry – "

"You can't help it," she responded. "If I had lived in a house this small after Pietro died – well, the team would have given me to Ross a long time ago," she said sarcastically. She moved back into the kitchen and stood on a stool, going behind several boxes in a cabinet and coming back with cookies. She placed several on a plate and then finished Peter's cocoa. She handed it to him and turned out the light. He followed her back to the living room and sat on the other end of the sofa. They sat in silence for a time, snuggled under blankets and sipping hot drinks.

"What was he like?" Peter asked, finally breaking the silence. "Your brother?"

Wanda smiled. "He was a trouble maker. He was charming – He was kind, though you wouldn't know it at first. He was a good brother – he always made sure I was safe." They spoke for a long time, Wanda sharing stories from her childhood and Peter occasionally sharing some from his.

The next morning, Steve and Natasha found them sleeping on the living room sofas, empty plates and cups nearby. "I didn't think I would have missed them coming back up," Natasha whispered as she gathered the dishes.

"How long do you think they slept?"

"Not long enough," Natasha, "It's been a bad week for sleeping all around. Let them go. They can miss a day."

"You are a pushover, Agent Romanov," Steve said, grinning at her as they began to prepare their own breakfast.

Natasha glared at him playfully. "I think you might want to watch what you say, Rogers. Wanda could get away with murder while you were on watch."

"She's kind of really good at murder," Steve whispered.

"Don't ever say that aloud again," Natasha chided him. Although it was meant to be playful, they both knew Wanda would take it in a very different way. Steve went out for a run – as he did every morning – after sharing breakfast. Natasha was reading the newspaper and waiting for her laptop to boot when Wanda walked into the room, sighing when she tried to stretch her neck. She shuffled into the kitchen and sat at the table, laying her head on her arms. "That was a terrible place to sleep," she moaned.

"I've had worse," Natasha told her, reaching over to pour a cup of coffee for the young woman. Wanda sat up and accepted it. Her eyes widened as she saw the time on the kitchen clock.

"Have we received a temporary reprieve from the torture?" Wanda asked.

Natasha smirked. "Really, Wanda? I know for a fact that you've actually been tortured – is school that bad?"

"Only sometimes," Wanda answered with a shrug, her accent still thick with sleep. She poured a bit of cream into her coffee and then walked over the counter to make herself toast. She placed the jar of jam on the table with a knife and then waited for the bread to pop. She would have preferred peanut butter, but they had yet to find a source in the Netherlands since they weren't terribly close to a big city. She was used to living with no peanut butter – and sometimes no food at all, so she adjusted quickly; Peter was still trying to cope. He got a bit sadder every time they visited a new grocery or market that didn't have peanut butter.

Natasha refreshed her cup of coffee and logged into the next program on her computer – there were many of them to open before she had a stable, safe connection. She walked into the hall and peaked in the living room to see that Peter was still sleeping. Returning to the table, she sat back down next to Wanda.

"Did Peter talk to you?"

"A bit," Wanda answered. "He mostly asked about me. He's curious about Pietro."

"He's comparing it to his loss."

"Probably," she agreed. "But he didn't say much. I asked once if he wanted to talk about it – he said no."

"Nothing about the nightmares?"

"I can see them if you want me to," Wanda said uncertainly.

"No," Natasha answered. "No, that would be wrong," she said, despite wanting to know very badly. "He'll talk when he's ready." She sighed. "But he talks all the time – and it's not helping – it's never about what he needs to spill. And the nightmares – they're so consistent. He's not getting enough sleep."

"None of us are," Wanda said. "I have fun new bags to cover up when I leave the house." She appraised Natasha. "You've got a few yourself." Natasha eyed her suspiciously and stood to look in a mirror next to the back door. There were suspiciously darker than normal blotches under her eyes. Wasn't the serum supposed to stop crap like this from happening? She was still looking at herself critically when Wanda called her back.

"Natasha, I was teasing. You'll be fine after a few nights of sleep."

She sat back down and glared at Wanda. "Regretting letting you stay home."

"Let me leave before you change your mind," Wanda said, picking up her plate of remaining toast and her coffee. "I'm not even here," she said as she walked out of the room and up the stairs. Natasha smiled and shook her head before getting back to the business of gathering intel. It took another twenty minutes to login to each part of her setup, and by that time Steve was back.

After he showered, he sat back down with her. "Wanda's awake – she went upstairs – Peter is still sleeping." He nodded.

"What are we looking for today?"

"Clint is supposed to send a message every two to three days to let me know he's okay," she said, opening a web browser. She found the appropriate chatroom and logged in. She smiled and pointed to a new ad in what Steve could only call an obscene website. It was someone offering something he didn't want to think about to – well, apparently Natasha.

"Stop blushing," she told him. "It's code. The act means that they're doing better than expected – the place means they're safe. And these numbers mean they have enough food and water for all five of them for the foreseeable future." She opened a new message and typed something in that made Steve blush even more – and sent it. Then she logged out and closed several of her programs before opening a few others.

They spent the morning going over old files that he'd found on his last trip – these had been gathered from a black site several countries away. They'd found nothing useful by the time Peter woke and began looking for his breakfast – conveniently eaten at lunch time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to comment and let me know what you think!


	6. Words Not Forgotten

Chapter 6

Natasha rolled her eyes at Wanda as she walked into the school office. The younger woman simply glared at her – but softened her expression when someone came out of a back office. "Hello, Mrs. Taylor," the woman said in clipped Dutch. Natasha whirled around to greet the woman.

"Hello, Madame Smith," Natasha responded in perfect Dutch. "It's nice to see you again." It was not nice - Natasha had not liked her when she'd come to register Wanda and Peter.  And she had a feeling that she wasn't going to like her more after that day.  "What seems to be the problem?" She asked, looking sideways at Wanda.

"Let's go into my office," she said, motioning in that direction. Wanda stood to follow them and the woman jerked her hand toward the chair. "You stay here." Natasha's eyes widened but she said nothing as she walked into the office.

"Emma assaulted another student in gymnasium this morning," the woman said once Natasha sat across from her at her desk. The spy tilted her head; this was surprising to a degree, but not unheard of. Wanda kept to herself and wouldn't have actually gone after anyone – but if threatened, she might hit back.

Natasha frowned deeply, thinking through her options before speaking. "What did she do? Is the student okay?"

"He had a black eye – and was in a great deal of pain over abdominal injuries." Natasha almost smirked at that; Wanda had hit him in the balls. Well, kneed him, probably. Clint had taught her that one when she'd been on the farm the summer before.

"Was there a reason she hit him?"

"There is never a reason for physical violence," the woman said. Natasha could think of several reasons that would have made it acceptable for Wanda to have resorted to physical violence, but she knew better than to express that opinion.

"Of course not," Natasha responded. "But I know that Emma wouldn't act out without cause – she's usually very reserved."

"How long has your family been here?"

"A little over a month," Natasha responded.

"I've informed Emma that this is not the way to start off on the right foot in a new school. I've gone through her records – there are no suspensions listed in her file."

"No," Natasha agreed. "I can guarantee she'd never been suspended before."

"I would prefer you guarantee this never happen again. The other student's parents are very well-to-do members of the community. Emma is lucky to be getting away with only a three-day suspension. I do not expect to see her again in my office for any problems this semester."

"I'll speak with her," Natasha said, her pleasant demeanor hardening just a bit. "Thank you for your time, Madame Smith."

"I'd like to take Noah home while I'm here," Natasha told the secretary who had reappeared in the outer office where Wanda was sitting. The woman looked up his schedule, called the classroom, and asked for him. He appeared several minutes later, his backpack over his shoulders, smiling brightly.

"Early dismissal? Cool," he said, not seeming to notice that Wanda looked miserable. "What's up?" Natasha just nodded out the door and he got the idea – they didn't speak again until they were in the car. Even then, it was a mostly silent ride.

Steve was waiting for them when she pulled into the driveway. He had been away for several days – working on gathering the information they needed to clear their names. He looked exhausted and grim as he gave them a half smile. Natasha hugged him and kissed him. "Welcome home," she said. Steve was surprised until he saw neighbors watching; he didn't know that she'd done it on reflexes not related to maintaining a cover.

"It looks like I've come back to a problem," he said, immediately noticing Wanda's demeanor. Once inside the house, Natasha sent Peter away.

"Awe – I come home early to get sent to my room? That's not fair."

"You can go outside," she suggested.

He shrugged – they were in a suburban area, every different from where he had grown up. He wasn't comfortable out there on his own. "I'll go play video games." She shook her head in amusement as he walked into the kitchen, grabbed several snacks, and then headed up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve had begun making a pot of tea and Natasha joined him, placing cups and saucers at the table. Once the tea was steeped, she handed a cup to Wanda, who was standing by the window, staring out into the yard.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You're not actually my mother."

"No," Natasha agreed. "But last time I checked, I was your friend. And right now, we are the only ones we have. So what happened?"

"It is not important." She turned away from Natasha and walked to the kitchen table, sitting down and sipping from her cup. Had she not wanted to talk at all, she would have gone to her room. Seeing her settling in as a promising move, Natasha and Steve joined her, their own cups in hand.

"How was your trip?" Natasha asked, glancing at Steve over the rim of her tea cup. He had been gone for three days – the maximum that they'd agreed on.

He nodded. "Worthwhile. I ran into Sam – he sends his love. He's worried about us all being together. He said he's had to run from UN forces twice now. Maria was right – he was leading them away from Scott and Cassie both times. Scott is having trouble getting used to hiding." Although her first instinct was to roll her eyes, Natasha knew that Scott was struggling. His decision to check on Cassie before going into hiding had ended badly for Cassie's mother and step-father. They had been killed by Ross' men who had been trying to recapture Scott. Now Scott was all Cassie had left – Natasha was thankful that Sam was watching out for them.

"I'm glad they all got away," Natasha answered. "And I hope you told Sam not to worry. We'll be fine," she stated. "We have a bit more firepower between the four of us than he has on his own."

They didn't have a chance to speak about what had happened at the school. Steve was still filling them in on his mission when the doorbell rang. Natasha stood first, her hand going to check the gun holstered at the small of her back, hidden under a very motherly cardigan sweater. Peter appeared on the landing, looking at them nervously. Natasha waved him back up the stairs and checked the peephole. There were three teenage girls on the front porch. Her hand left her gun and she curled her hair behind her ears before pulling the door open.

"Hello," she said with a kind smile. "Can I help you?"

"Hi Mrs. Taylor," the first girl said. "We came to see Emma – "

"It wasn't her fault, what happened today," the second girl said bluntly. Natasha tilted her head, interested in this turn of events.  

"We didn't think it was," she responded honestly. "But thank you for stopping by to tell us."

Natasha invited them inside; Wanda blinked in surprise when she saw them. "Hello," she said slowly.

"Hi, ladies," Steve said politely.

"Hi, Mr. Taylor," they chorused. Natasha saw them almost swooning – Steve did that to people.

"Anne, Iris, and Eva came to see Emma," Natasha told him. "Would you girls like a cup of tea?"

"We don't want to intrude," the one named Eva said with a polite smile. "We just wanted to make sure that Emma didn't get into trouble because of what Trevor did. He's – not nice," she said, finishing with her best bet after all of the vulgarities seemed inappropriate.

Natasha looked at Wanda and tilted her head a bit in question. Wanda nodded once, indicating that it was okay, so Natasha turned to put the teapot back on the stove. "It's no imposition," Natasha told them. "We were just going upstairs – Mr. Taylor needs to unpack after his trip. Stay for a bit, if you'd like." She and Steve gathered their things – she her bag that included her computer and he the small suitcase he'd carried. Wanda removed fresh teacups from the cabinet and moved the stool to find the hidden box of cookies Natasha kept well stocked.

In their bedroom, they sat and talked more about Steve's travels – and what Natasha had heard from Maria, Sharon, and other reliable contacts. They heard the girls leave about an hour and a half later and went back to the kitchen to investigate. Wanda was washing the few dishes.

"You okay?" Natasha asked.

"Fine," Wanda responded. But she offered a smile – a real one – and she looked happy. If Natasha knew for certain what a thing looked like when one was a teenager, she would have imagined that Wanda had just made friends.

Over dinner, she told them some of what had happened. The boy named Trevor, who was eighteen – just a few months younger than Wanda – had taken an interest in her. He had been leering at her since the first day of school and was apparently outraged at her polite rebuffs. She read his mind; she had no hesitation about invading the thoughts of people she thought might hurt her. And she saw that he was more than angry – he was filled with rage. "I could see how angry he was," Wanda whispered. "And so when he cornered me – " She shook her head. "I don't really know what happened – I know he came at me – but he never touched me. I hurt him."

"It sounds as though he deserved it. When a lady says no, that means no," Steve said, watching to make sure that Peter was listening to him. The younger boy nodded; he looked upset over what had happened to Wanda. The subject was quickly changed after that. The young witch was exhausted from the stress of the day – and was barely touching her dinner.

"What happened after he approached you?" Natasha asked later that evening, after Wanda's dinner was over and Peter was out running with Steve. She had seen that there was more to the young woman's story – but hadn't wanted to pressure her in front of the boys. Wanda was curled into the corner of the sofa, a thick red cashmere shawl wrapped around her. She still shivered.

"He said things," Wanda said, her voice slow and thick. "Things that the soldiers said on the Raft. Things that the soldiers said in Sokovia, when we were Strucker's labs.  Horrible things." Natasha waited patiently, knowing that eventually Wanda would get to where she was going. "I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "I was inside my head for too long – I lost about five minutes. When I realized what was happening, I was in the office waiting for you." Her fingers twisted at the platinum and iron bracelets ringing her wrists. "If I had not been wearing my bracelets, he would be dead."

"That's why you have them," Natasha reminded her. "So you aren't forced to make emotional decisions with your powers outside of combat."

"Sometimes I think they should have left me in that cage."

"Hey," she said softly. She made sure Wanda was looking her in the eye. "There are a lot of people who belong in that cage – you are not one of them," Natasha told her. She then knelt in front of the fireplace and pulled out one of the bricks that sat at the bottom, brushing away any loose kindling and wrapping it in a fleece. She tucked the heated brick into the sofa near Wanda's feet and the younger woman whimpered in relief.

"Thank you. I don't know why I'm so cold." Natasha and Steve had their suspicions – and the prevailing one linked her magic to her body heat. Without access to one, the other was suffering.

Natasha curled up on the other end of the couch and they turned on the television – deciding to stream the Harry Potter movies. Steve and Peter joined them for a marathon – complete with popcorn – when they returned home. They day ended much better than Wanda had imagined it would when she'd been cornered by the angry boy.

Once in bed that night, Steve lay awake, staring into the darkness. After twenty minutes of silence, Natasha turned to him in the dark and spoke. "Your thinking is keeping me awake. What's up?"

Steve sighed. "I just keep thinking about that boy. Wanda shouldn't have to deal with that – not after what she's been through."

"She'll be okay," Natasha told him. "She's strong. And he's just a little creep. He didn't get to do anything to really hurt her."

"I don't want to believe there are boys that behave that way – every day – in every corner of the earth."

"There are a lot of bastards out there," Natasha told him. "Men like you, Clint, and Sam? You're a special breed," she told him.

"I wish we weren't," Steve mumbled. But he seemed settled for the moment. He scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her and she rested against his chest, snuggling in for the night.

Wanda had been suspended from the school for three days; apparently that was the punishment for punching someone. She stayed home with Natasha, reading through old SHIELD files and trying to help pull out details that might serve them as the tides changed. On the third day, Natasha received a phone call around lunchtime.

She raised an eyebrow as she walked back into the school office and stood in front of Peter. Her fingers lifted his chin and she studied his blackened eye; it was the same one that had been blackened after the fight in Berlin. "Really?" She asked, under her breath. He shrugged. The headmistress gave a stunning lecture this time about the responsibilities of parenting and about teaching children that violence was wrong – and Natasha had to bite her tongue to keep from speaking back.

When they arrived home, Steve and Wanda were both waiting to hear what had happened. They knew that Peter was in trouble, but not why. "What happened?" Steve asked.

"Someone decided it was a good idea to punch another kid," Natasha informed him, her voice more severe than usual.

"Who did you punch?" Steve asked Peter.

"Some guy," Peter said, shrugging. "Can I go to my room?"

"No," Steve said. "That's where all your cool stuff is. You can stay here," he said, pointing to one of the chairs in the living room. Peter sank into it as Natasha began pacing the room.

"This," she said sternly, "is not how to keep a low profile!" Peter looked guilty, but only just.

"Why did you punch him?" Wanda asked.

"He was a jerk," Peter said unhappily.

"There are a lot of jerks in the world, Peter – " Steve started to say, before Natasha cut him off.

"He hit the boy who's been harassing Wanda for weeks." Steve went quiet and she could see his expression swell with pride. She smacked the back of his head lightly. "Don't encourage him – don't look happy. This is not how to solve problems – and it's certainly not how to stay in hiding when multiple international agencies are looking for us."

Steve tried to suppress his pride, but it was impossible. His face fell a bit as Natasha glared at him. He gestured at Peter. "He's very sorry." How he was able to keep a straight face, she wasn't sure.

"I am," Peter said, immediately attempting to pick up on the olive branch Steve was offering. She looked at Peter and realized she was not nearly as angry as she should have been. Wanda had been protecting herself; Peter actively engaged in violence that could have blown their cover. But she couldn't find it in herself to yell at him again.

She huffed. "I can't deal with either one of your right now." She left the room and they heard her ascending the stairs. Wanda stood.

She moved close to Peter and looked him directly in the eye – they were about the same height now – Peter had been growing like a weed. "It was stupid," Wanda told him harshly. Her voice softened. "But very sweet. Thank you, Peter." She pecked him on the cheek. "Don't do it again," she warned.

* * *

Thank you for reading - please leave me a comment and let me know what you think!


	7. Safe Harbor

Chapter 7 - Safe Harbors

They had been in hiding for almost six months when a disaster – one the Avengers normally would have been called to help solve – struck.

It was early afternoon. Wanda and Peter had just gotten home from school – he had taken a snack to his room where he was playing a video game and Wanda was sitting in the kitchen, focused on a history textbook. Natasha was in the living room, reading a book. The two women looked up as the front door swung open and Steve appeared, looking rattled and worried.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asked immediately, jumping to her feet. He went directly to the living room and they followed him. He turned on the television that hung on one wall and changed the channel until he reached a news station. Chaos unfolded on the screen. Some type of mayhem was coming from a red cloud in the middle of Chicago. News anchors guessed at what it was – but it was clear that they didn't actually know. Buildings were falling, people were running for their lives. As the red cloud expanded, it left behind rubble. Wanda sank into the sofa, her teeth already worrying her thumb nail. Natasha moved quickly around the house, coming back with several cell phones. Steve sat next to Wanda while the spy paced cat-like around the room, trying to get in touch with anyone. She eventually sat down.

"Maria, Phil, and Sharon all told me what they know – it's not much. But they all think Ross is trying to draw us out."

"He unleashed this on purpose?" Wanda asked, aghast.

"Possibly," Natasha answered. "I need to get messages to Clint and Sam – make sure they know to stay put." She left them for several minutes and when she returned, she looked calmer. "They're fine," she told them. "Scott too."

"Those people aren't," Wanda said, nodding to the television. Almost an hour went by as they watched. Wanda's nails were a mess, Steve tore apart the stitching of a throw pillow, and Natasha's hands were sore from being clenched into fists. They all looked up in surprise when Peter appeared, looking chipper. They had forgotten about him. Steve tried to turn off the television, but it was too late. Peter turned to watch.

"What's going on? Where is that? What is that? Why aren't we doing anything?" He looked back at them, confused at their stillness. He wasn't sure he had ever seen all three of them so motionless at the same time.

Natasha took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Peter, sit down."

"We don't have time to sit down – people are dying,' he said, gesturing to the screen. "We need to move."

"Peter," Natasha repeated. "Sit down." Her voice wasn't harsh – it never really was when she spoke to any of them – but she clearly meant business. He sat on the coffee table, waiting impatiently for whatever she had to say that would make their inaction ok. "I received intel – good intel. Ross either set this up or let it happen – to try and lure us out and capture us."

"So those people are just going to die?" Peter asked.

"They haven't given us much choice," Wanda reminded him. "We couldn't get there in time anyway. It's too far – even with the fastest quinjet. They must think at least some of us are in the states." Peter allowed the words to sink in. Natasha moved over on the sofa and he slid in between her and Wanda, crossing his arms across his chest as he focused miserably on the television.

In the end, they watched on television as Tony and Vision were able to get things under control – but not until after hundreds of people had been killed and millions of dollars in damage had been done. They were mostly silent that night, stuck in their own heads and each imagining what they could have done to save those people.

Wanda disappeared after dinner and when she was gone for more than an hour, Natasha went in search. She found the young woman in a clearing in the woods – a few miles from the house. She was using her powers to throw pinecones and twigs into the air and decimate them. The thick growth of trees was enough cover to keep the red magic from being noticed. And Natasha had a feeling that an illusion was cast – it was shimmery to her, which meant that people who didn't know what they were looking for wouldn't have noticed Wanda or her magic. It was a tactic the young woman was still trying to perfect.

Natasha edged into the clearing and sat at the base of a sequoia, watching. It didn't take long for Wanda to realize she was there. She blasted a few more pinecones and turned to look at Natasha. "No one can see me," she informed her.

"I know," Natasha responded. "I can tell." She shook her head. "I'm not here to tell you what to do."

"Why are you here?" Wanda asked, her dark mood evident.

"You're not the only one rattled about what she saw on the news," she said. Wanda's anger dissipated almost as quickly as it appeared. Arms crossed over her chest, she paced the clearing for several minutes.

She shook her head as she paced closer to Natasha. "I can't believe anyone would do that on purpose."

"You can't believe? Or you don't want to?"

"Don't want to," Wanda admitted. She sank to the ground, curling her knees to her chest and hugging them. "How can Ross kill hundreds of people – maybe thousands? We're not valuable anymore," she said. "He knows we won't fight for him – he'd only be catching us to put us in cages."

"I'm assuming it would do a great deal for his ego, and his gross feelings of incompetence and impotence," Natasha told her. "I don't think he cares anymore why he's chasing us – he just doesn't like being the loser, no matter the cost."

Wanda closed her eyes. "I don't know how to live with being the reason more people are dead."

"This is not on you," Natasha said harshly. "You know that. This is Ross – and Ross alone. And Wanda – he probably would have eventually turned into this anyway. He's always had loose screws. You can't blame yourself." Wanda did blame herself, but she knew it was useless to argue. The rest of the evening – and indeed the following week or so – was surreal for them all. They eventually stopped turning on the television for fear of catching another news story about the tragedy.

Almost two months later, things had seemingly settled again. Wanda and Peter arrived home from school to find that Natasha and Steve were waiting. They were sitting in the kitchen, but they weren't relaxed - they were both clearly ready to walk out the door. "What's going on?" Wanda asked, her eyes moving to the bags by the door.

"We're going to Wakanda for a few days – maybe a few weeks if we can stretch it," Natasha told her.

"And then?" Wanda asked.

"And then we go elsewhere," she answered.

"Do we have to go?" Peter asked, almost whining. It was moments like these when Natasha really did feel like a mother – why did she always have to have all of the answers?

"Yes," she said shortly. "I know you like it here – but it's better if we keep moving. We've been here for almost eight months – that's probably longer than we should have stayed."

"When do we leave?" Wanda asked.

"As soon as we can," Steve responded. "Go bags are in the car."

"You can take one additional bag," Natasha said, answering the unasked question that both sets of eyes were posing. Peter and Wanda flew up the stairs to pack everything they wanted into one bag each. Natasha, having hers already done, followed to help. Luckily, Steve also followed. It was he, not Natasha, who talked Peter out of taking his skateboard, a collection of oddly shaped stones, and a rather large spider that no one realized he'd been keeping as a pet. Steve oversaw its release into the wild instead.

Wanda didn't need much oversight. She had more trouble deciding what to take. Almost everything she touched was deemed replaceable or not important enough to keep. Natasha talked her into taking several things – a bit of jewelry, a few books, a few sweaters, a shawl, and a book of music. The cello had to stay, but they would find her another one.

On the drive to the airport – an airport in another county - Wanda finally had enough courage to ask about her suspicions. "How close behind us are they?" Peter looked surprised; he was innocent enough to believe what he was told. He didn't understand yet that Steve and Natasha did very little without extremely good reason. They wouldn't be leaving without warning unless they had no choice.

The front seat was silent for a moment before Natasha looked back at her and answered honestly. "At least a few hours. We had plenty of warning." Wanda sighed as she leaned back against the seat. She could envision UN troops pointing guns at her. At Peter and Steve and Natasha. This was a terrifying way to live.

She didn't have much time to worry about it because while they drove – it took almost five hours since Steve was using back roads and backtracking occasionally – Natasha collected all of their documents and passed out their traveling ones. Peter again was the hardest to train – but by the time they reached the airport, he was on solid footing with his temporary identity.

Wanda and Peter were surprised when they reached the airport – they didn't board a commercial flight. Instead, they drove directly onto a private airfield. A large jet stood by and when they parked, two men and two women came down the ramp to welcome them. Well, the men welcomed them. The women watched them in suspicion. They were emissaries for T'Challa and they had met Natasha before. She spoke with them for several minutes before she nodded to Steve, who motioned for Wanda and Peter to follow her. He brought up the rear with their luggage. The two Wakandans insisted on helping, taking half of the bags.

The private plane was beautiful – lush and comfortable without being too ostentatious. Wanda looked around in worry as Peter bounded from one area to the next, exclaiming over the things he found. "Peter, stop moving for two seconds," Natasha said quickly. She turned to Wanda. "What's wrong?"

"Those women don't like us," Wanda whispered. "What if they're not who they say they are? How do we know they'll take us to Wakanda and not back to the raft – or anywhere else?"

"Those women don't like me," Natasha informed her. "We had a run-in while we thought Bucky was the UN bomber. But they are some of T'Challa's most trusted guards. They wouldn't betray him, no matter how they feel about us." Wanda still looked doubtful, but she took one of the large leather seats on the right side of the plane. Peter was bouncing in a seat across the aisle. Natasha sat across from Wanda, Steve across from Peter.

"Why did we have to learn different names if we were taking a private plane?" Peter asked. He had spent the trip roaming the cabin, moving from seat to seat as he changed activities. Now he was sitting next to Natasha, who was attempting to read. She closed the book, her finger marking her page.

"Customs agents could come aboard either in the US or Wakanda," Natasha told him. "You need to be ready in case."

Peter nodded. "What is it like in Wakanda?"

"It's winter right now," she told him. "But winter in the jungle isn't exactly winter – it's just wetter."

"Where are we staying?"

"I'm sure T'Challa will host us in his palace," Natasha told him. "Why?"

"I'm just picturing a one-room hut and that seems like a bad idea." She smirked at him.

"Wakanda has more advanced technology than we do in the US. As long as you don't insult him by suggesting all his people live in one-room huts, T'Challa may even introduce you to his scientists." Peter looked excited. He wandered off again, going back to the first seat he'd claimed as "his" and opening the physics book he was still toting around.

They did not encounter any agents – customs or otherwise. They moved directly from T'Challa's private plane to his private car. The drive from the airport to T'Challa's palace was a long one – and the windows were blacked out, keeping them from seeing anything. Eventually Peter and Wanda fell to sleep. Natasha lazed against Steve, resting physically but still remaining vigilant and sharp. The driver eventually swapped in clear windows and they shook the teens awake in time to see the Panther statue that guarded the front gate of the palace.

T'Challa himself met them at the main entrance. He hugged Natasha and shook Steve's hand. He bowed politely to Wanda, offering his hand – and then shook Peter's. Peter immediately started gushing over the palace and the beauty of the land, saving the rest of them from having to say a word.

As he and his guards walked them through the main floor of the residence, Natasha realized that all of the women – with the exception of his guards – wore headscarves. T'Challa saw both Natasha and Wanda looking. "In my home, you are welcome to wear whatever is most comfortable to you," he informed them. "If you go into the villages, I ask that you wear a headscarf. Anything else will draw attention."

"Of course," Natasha answered for them both. She took Wanda's hand as she felt another set of eyes burning into her. The guards were definitely watching. Not exactly in an intimidating way, but in a way that was very clear. Steve situated himself behind Natasha, his hand falling to the middle of her back in a show of dominance to the men watching. Normally, she would have been insulted that he felt the need to do it. Today, she allowed it. She was here to relax and regroup, not to be the target of sexual harassment and cultural misunderstanding.

T'Challa walked them personally to the rooms he said were theirs for as long as they liked. They were on the third floor in the east wing – it was a suite, really, with three bedrooms, three baths, and a common sitting room. Once T'Challa left them to rest before dinner, Natasha and Steve scoured each room for cameras, microphones, and security lapses. Peter helped – despite no one asking him to – by crawling through the ductwork.

Natasha answered a knock at the door and found Clint on the other side, holding Peter by the collar. "I think this one belongs to you," he said, smiling at his friend. "I found him in the vents above my room."

"Clint!" Natasha hugged him and Peter got away quickly, scrambling to stand behind Natasha. "It's good to see you, Nat." After they hugged, Clint hugged Wanda and greeted Steve. He looked back at Natasha, who was eyeing him hopefully.

"Yes," they're here," he said, his smile wide. "I know it's not me you're excited to see – Laura and the kids are in the next suite." He led them over. Peter stayed back with Steve, who looked at him sideways.

"You were climbing through the vents?"

Peter shrugged. "I fit – I thought it was worth checking out." Steve fought a smile as they followed Natasha and Wanda to the Barton's suite.

Inside the Barton's common room, Laura sat at the table with Cooper, looking over some type of textbook. Lila was coloring at the coffee table and Nate was sleeping in a playpen in the corner.

"Nat!" Laura stood the moment she saw them, moving quickly to throw her arms around her old friend. Natasha hugged her back and luxuriated in the familiarity. She then moved onto the kids. Clint hugged Wanda again before Laura got ahold of her.

"Oh, honey. I was so worried about you. I couldn't believe when Clint didn't bring you home. I yelled at him for days."

"She did do that," Clint agreed, grimacing at the memory.

"It wasn't safe for you or the children," Wanda told her.

Laura rolled her eyes. "Getting out of bed in the morning isn't safe half of the time. But I guess I forgive him – you did have Nat and Steve." She hugged Wanda again before allowing her loose. Lila was in her glory – she had grown close to Wanda during her few visits to the farm and was overjoyed to see the young woman again. Wanda knelt to the ground to check out – and show appropriate praise of – Lila's drawings.

Peter and Cooper hit it off immediately, talking about computer games and shooting abilities. Although they were three years apart, they were still close enough in age to value the company – especially after they had each been in hiding for almost a year.

"How long have you been here?" Nat asked, moving to sit with Laura at the table. Cooper and Peter had gone to the television console and were setting up a video game.

"Keep the sound off, buddy," Clint told him. Cooper nodded and handed a controller to Peter. Clint and Steve sat with the two women at the table and the retired spy decided to answer the question. He kept his voice low. "Less than a week. We were trying to keep a low profile – but I was apparently recognized. I've blown through my safe houses large enough to hold the whole family – I hated to put the King in a bad spot, but we needed somewhere to regroup." Natasha reached across the table to take his hand.

"I'm sorry about the farm."

Clint shrugged. "It was just a piece of land. The important stuff is right here with me."

"He did save his bows and arrows," Laura teased.

"I saved you and the kids first," he said.

"Yes you did, my love. Yes, you did."

T'Challa sent food to their suite that evening, along with an invitation to visit the kitchens whenever they liked – and a formal invitation to join him for dinner the next evening. Peter looked warily at the unfamiliar cuisine, muttering about peanut butter and jelly as he finally began to make himself a plate. Natasha watched him pick at it, amusedly. He eventually found that he liked it - and dove in with the appropriate aplomb for a teen.

That evening, while Steve was showering and Natasha was preparing for bed, Wanda appeared in the doorway to their bedroom. Natasha was already in her pajamas – black yoga pants and a white top with a pink sweater. She finished removing her earrings and set them on the dresser, turning to face the young woman. "What's up?"

"They were closer than you said," Wanda said. She had clearly been considering this topic and confrontation for some time.

Natasha didn't answer immediately. "I promise, when you need to panic, I'll let you know."

"How close were they?"

"Far enough away that we knew we'd have no trouble getting away."

"You're not answering my question."

"No," Natasha agreed. "I'm not." She resumed removing her jewelry, divesting herself of necklace and rings.

"I'm not a child."

"I'm aware," Natasha told her. "But you don't need to know. It won't make you safer – it won't make you feel any better. And it's a moot point." She turned back toward the girl. "Trust me, it's better to forget about it."

Wanda's eyes grew wide. "How can I possibly do that? All I think about is them getting their hands on me again," she said angrily. "Every time I close my eyes – I see their guns pointing at me. I see them throwing me back into that place. It was finally starting to fade in the Netherlands – and now it's back." Natasha looked thoughtful. She walked to the corner of the room where a chaise lounge was positioned and sat on one end. She gestured to invite Wanda to sit with her. The younger woman did, looking absolutely miserable.

She exhaled deeply as she considered the wording to her thoughts. "In Berlin, could you have gotten away at the end of the fight?"

"What?" Wanda asked, her eyes snapping to Natasha's.

"By the time I got back to the main sight, you were already gone. I have no idea what it looked like. Could you have gotten away?"

Wanda considered it. "I suppose – before they used electricity – if I hadn't been afraid of killing someone. I didn't know what they would do to Clint and Sam and Scott if I got away." She paused. "And I had no idea what they were going to do to me. If I had – ."

Natasha nodded. "I'm not saying you should have fought – you didn't know how seriously Ross was going to take it. But now you know – and you are in a better position to protect yourself than anyone else. No one is going to touch you unless you let them. You were able to free Clint from Vision. No one else could have dreamed of doing that. If Ross's men had gotten to the house in the Netherlands, even if they had been three feet from us, we would have gotten away. You are much stronger than you realize. I know your power scares you – but if it comes to it, you'll be fine."

"What if I'm not only worried about me?"

"That's why we're together," Natasha told her. "We'll all be fine. Steve and I know what we're doing when it comes to gathering intel and using it to stay safe. And between the four of us, no forces Ross will be able to put together are going to be a match."

Wanda was silent for a long time. Eventually she looked up from her hands and peered thoughtfully at Natasha. "How close were they?"

Natasha shook her head and smirked wryly. "Good night, Wanda." She gestured to the door good naturedly and Wanda rolled her eyes, reembracing her teenage self.

"Good night," she said, a sigh of frustration leaving her.

"You'll thank me later," Natasha told her.

"We'll see," Wanda called back, already out the door. Steve, who had heard every word of the conversation from inside the bathroom, exited and sat behind her on the chaise.

"You did a good job," he told her. She laughed.

"You know; no one would believe me if I told them what a snoop Captain America happened to be."

Steve's eyes twinkled. "I don't think it counts as snooping if the conversation I overhear happens in my own bedroom." He wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her neck. She turned her head enough to peck his lips, then scolded him.

"The door is open, Steve."

"I can fix that," he suggested, begrudgingly unwrapping himself from around her long enough to close – and lock – the bedroom door.

She smiled as she walked toward the bed, where he was now waiting for her. "There are a lot of things people would be very surprised to find out about Captain America."

"Just Steve here, ma'am," he said, teasing her with the ma'am and a salute. "And people don't need to know about what happens behind Steve Roger's closed door."

"No," Natasha agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck as she crawled onto the bed. "I don't suppose they do." She kissed him deeply and the conversation came to a natural close as they were lost in one another for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	8. Where the Heart Is

Chapter 8 - Where the Heart Is 

Wanda's fears weren't just manifested in the daytime. Her nightmares returned for the first time since Peter had joined them in Australia. Since she now wore her bracelets to bed, her nightmares no longer had the possibility of property destruction or sending one of her guardians flying across the room, but they were still debilitating for the young woman. After three nights of waking to her screams, Natasha and Steve thought the nightmares had faded again. It took another two days to realize that Wanda was no longer even attempting to sleep – instead forcing herself to stay awake with copious amounts of caffeine to ensure an escape from the haunting dreams. After a week of almost no sleep, she looked pale and gaunt, her hands shaking.

On Saturday morning, after Peter disappeared with Cooper and Clint to work on what he called a "secret project", Natasha and Steve sat down with Wanda in the living room. "No more caffeine," Natasha told her. "You need to sleep."

"I'm fine," Wanda said, marking her page in the book she was reading and setting it in her lap.

"Your definition of fine is not the same as ours," Natasha replied.

"If you're worried about the nightmares, maybe you can try the sleeping pills for a few days," Steve suggested.

Wanda closed her eyes and shook her head. "Then I just get trapped with the dream," she told them. "Really, I'm fine."

Natasha tilted her head to the side and studied Wanda. "We're not going to argue."

"Good," Wanda responded.

"If you want help, let us know," Steve said, his expression clearly pointing to the fact that he was not on board with Natasha's non-argument plan.

"I'm fine," Wanda repeated.

"Okay," Natasha said, standing. "I'm going for a run. I'll be back in time for lunch." As she headed to her bedroom to change, she looked back at Wanda. "Just an FYI – don't look to the kitchens for tea or coffee – or anything else with caffeine or sugar – they won't let you have it." Wanda groaned and fell back against the sofa. She was still unsure that Natasha wasn't actually a mother; she really knew how to be effective at it. Just to test the warning, Wanda did call the kitchen and ask for tea. Then she felt terrible for the woman who nervously told her that she would be happy to bring her herbal tea. Wanda accepted – at least it was hot. She scowled when she realized there was no sugar on the tray; Natasha had been serious – she was being cut off completely.

It only took another day before exhaustion caught up completely with Wanda. She didn't even know what happened – one minute she was eating dinner in their suite, the next minute she was sobbing hysterically. Natasha and Steve somehow convinced her to swallow a sleeping pill and put her to bed – where she stayed, dreamless, for over two days.

When she woke, she found she wasn't alone. Natasha sat on the chaise lounge in her room, reading a novel and sipping from a mug.

"We were starting to get nervous," Natasha told her. "How do you feel?" She hadn't looked up yet, but she clearly knew Wanda was awake. Wanda sat up and squeezed her eyes shut again; her head was pounding. "Water and Tylenol on the nightstand," Natasha told her. The young woman obediently took the pills and lay back down, rolling to her side.

"How long did I sleep?"

Natasha looked at her watch before answering. "50 hours." She closed her book and stood. "Why don't you get up and get a shower – I'll call the kitchens and have them send something up. Do you want anything particular?" Wanda shook her head. She took her time showering and dressing. By the time she arrived in the living room of the suite, food had arrived. So had a familiar blonde. Sharon Carter was sitting at the small dining table in the corner of the room, drinking a cup of coffee and chatting with Natasha.

"Hi, Wanda," Sharon said cheerfully when she saw her.

"Hello," Wanda answered. She sat at the table and studied the food in front of her. A sandwich and soup – fairly safe. She looked at Sharon. "I am surprised to see you here."

Sharon smiled. "I just got in. I had a few weeks of vacation to use – and as far as the UN and the CIA know, I am currently living it up on a private island owned by Tony."

"That sounds far more relaxing than a jungle in the rainy season," Wanda informed her. "Are you sure you chose wisely?"

"Better company here," Sharon answered. She took what Wanda realized was the last sip from her cup and set it on the table. "I should actually get going – I promised the King we could have a chat this evening." She caught Wanda's eye. "We'll catch up tomorrow?"

Wanda nodded. Sharon left and the young witch went about eating her dinner. It was extra quiet in the suite, she realized. "Where are Peter and Steve?"

Natasha smirked from across the room where she was placing Sharon's coffee mug in the sink in the kitchenette. She topped off her mug and returned to the table, sitting down across from Wanda. "Steve decided it would be a good idea to attempt to train Peter. It has been hilarious."

Wanda smiled. "How so?"

"Peter is terrible at everything Steve wants to teach him – and excels at things Steve can't do." Wanda shook her head; she could only imagine what that would look like. She listened in amusement as Natasha described some of the scenes she'd witnessed.

The next morning, Wanda found herself walking through the estate gardens with Sharon. Both women wore scarves over her hair. Although T'Challa had insisted they do what they were comfortable with, it seemed to make them targets of staring if they chose to forgo any type of headdress. "How do you feel about leaving the Netherlands?" Sharon asked her.

"It doesn't matter. It needed to be done."

"Just because it needed to be done, doesn't mean we can't reflect on how you feel about it. Lack of choice does not insinuate consent. How do you feel about it?"

Wanda shrugged. "I felt comfortable there," she admitted. "Safe."

"What made it feel comfortable and safe?"

Wanda blushed and Sharon knew she had realized what she was hoping to move toward. "Sometimes it's the people, and not the place. And you still have your people," she reminded Wanda.

Wanda nodded. "I had friends." Sharon waited for her to continue. "I had friends my own age for the first time since my parents were alive. It was nice. It almost felt normal."

"There's no reason you can't have that again," Sharon told her. Wanda shook her head.

"I'm too old to keep pretending to be in high school – eventually I have to be an adult. But I have no job skills, no plans for the future – and am still being hunted by a man who wants to throw me in a government lab to be studied."

"You don't have to fix everything at once," Sharon reminded her. "You've made huge strides this year – don't forget that." They spoke for a bit longer, but Wanda's attention had wandered, so little more was accomplished.

Wanda returned to her bedroom to find several stringed instruments lined up under the windows. She recognized the cello, which she was unabashedly thankful to have in her possession again. There was also a harp, a guitar, a violin, viola, and something she didn't recognize with 21 strings. She lifted the cello from its stand and carried it over to a chair in front of another window. She studied the bow and tested it lightly, appreciating the flex and feel of it.

She was bringing the bow to the strings for the first time when the sensation of being watched struck her. Lifting her eyes, she focused in on Natasha, standing inside the doorway with her arms crossed. A light smile played across her lips. "Seriously, I only asked T'Challa for a cello and a guitar. The others he just sent. I think he was excited that someone wanted something from his music room."

"Thank you," Wanda answered. "It was very kind of him – and of you to ask." As a child, she had always wanted to play an instrument. One of their neighbors had played a violin beautifully – she could listen to him for hours through the thin walls – but she had never had access to learn. After Pietro had died and she'd been taken in as an Avenger, things had changed. Steve had wanted her to try something new to distract her. He'd suggested art classes, Natasha had suggested dance or yoga, Sam university classes. It had been Pepper who had offered her a musical instrument. Wanda had tried to refuse it at first, but after Natasha and Steve had watched her become captivated by music several times, they had talked her in to trying something. One trip to the music store had resulted in her cello and a string of classes. She had finished the classes and beginners' books and methodologies before they had moved upstate to the new facilities.

Although she was kept plenty busy with training, learning to use her powers, growing accustomed to the United States, and of course – mourning Pietro, the cello gave her something to escape to that didn't cause anxiety or remind her of her brother. It was hers and hers alone. She had been without it during her time in the prison – and again until they'd reached the Netherlands. Natasha was clearly ensuring that didn't happen again.

That evening, they ate dinner in their suite. They often ate with T'Challa and the others in the main dining room, but occasionally it was nice to have a more low-key meal. Peter spent the majority of the time telling them about a treehouse that the king was allowing them to build just outside one of the gardens.  It was the "secret project" he had been working on for several days. It spanned several trees – and was taking on a life of its own. It was also being financed by a king and built by two young boys who were both intelligent and ambitious, so it was turning out to the quite the sprawling project.

"How long do you think this construction is going to last?" Natasha asked, smiling at Steve before taking another bite of her food.

"Oh, I don't know," Peter said. "A few weeks –" He looked troubled suddenly and his expression deflated. "Wait – are we staying that long? How long will we be here?"

Natasha shook her head. "We don't know. As long as it's safe," she told him. "You should keep working on it," she assured him. Whether he was reassured or not was debatable, but he pretended to be. Steve asked him about the purpose of connecting a treehouse to electricity, and Peter started in again on their plans.

Later that night, Natasha brought it up again as she crawled into bed next to Steve. "We've been avoiding it, but we do need to talk about what we do next," she said.

Steve sighed, wrapping an arm around her. "Do you always have to be right?"

"Only 99% of the time," she quipped. She snuggled against him. "We don't have to leave right now – or even soon. But we need to have a plan for when we do leave." They spoke well into the night, discussing options and throwing around ideas.

Within two weeks of their arrival, Sam appeared with Scott and Cassie. The little girl was exhausted and Scott looked worse for the time he'd spent on the run – but T'Challa welcomed them as he had everyone else – and before long, they were clean and fed and sleeping. Natasha accompanied Laura to the suite – and the mother of three had a basket with some of Lila's clothing and a few other little girl necessities that she handed to Scott when he opened the door.

"Hi,'' he said, uncomfortably. "Mrs. Barton?" He asked, almost – but not quite – positive he knew who she was.

"Laura," she said. "And I believe you know Natasha."

"I should hope," Scott said. "She was very good at kicking my ass." He stepped aside and gestured for them to come in.

"You didn't do too badly," Natasha assured him, not quite hiding her smirk. "Unfortunately for you, I've been training since I was younger than Cassie."

He looked shocked and then saddened. He looked toward a closed bedroom door and back again. "That's awful."

Natasha nodded, her eyes sad and solemn. "Yeah, it is." Scott invited them to sit down and Laura asked him how he was.

He shook his head. "It's never really been just me and Cassie. Before I went to jail – I was with her mom. Then when I got out – I got supervised visits, but it was never just the two of us. She misses her mom – and school – and her friends. I can't believe I got her into this mess."

"You'll be fine," Laura promised him. "You have to take it one day at a time. What do you need to get through today?"

"I don't really know," he admitted. Luckily, he was speaking to a woman who did know – and she was determined to help. She helped him come up with a game plan for the day and the week.

Lila loved her family – but now that they were around people she could trust who were not her family, she was in heaven. She had gotten a bit tired of only having her parents and brothers around. She adopted Wanda as her new best friend – and spent as much time as she could finagle with the young woman. Wanda didn't mind, as she assured Laura and Clint often. In fact, spending time with Lila was relaxing. The child had no agenda, no expectations, and no anxiety about the insane world they lived in. Currently, they were in one of T'Challa's outer gardens, a blanket spread out under a flowering tree, on grass that Wanda was certain didn't usually grown in this climate. Lila had brought a small bag of toys and the current book they were reading together while Wanda had a basket from the kitchen staff filled with more than they could possibly eat for lunch.

Lila was playing quietly – and Wanda reading her own book – when new arrivals appeared. Cassie had recovered from the trip and looked around in awe as she clutched Scott's hand and followed Laura into the small clearing. Wanda set her book aside as Natasha appeared and sat next to her. "We thought we would join you," Laura said cheerfully.

"We're so glad – the kitchen gave us more food than we could possibly eat," Wanda explained. Lila smiled in agreement. The two little girls studied one another carefully. They were very similar in size and age.

"Lila, this is Scott Lang, a friend of your dad's – and this is his daughter Cassie," Laura told her. "Cassie, this is my daughter Lila."

Lila looked thoughtful for a moment and then launched herself at Cassie, hugging the little girl. "Do you want to have a picnic?"

Cassie giggled and agreed, sitting down on the blanket with Lila. Laura and Scott sat down as well and they allowed the little girls to lead the conversation. Lila felt it was her duty as a fellow eight-year-old to tell Cassie everything she currently knew about T'Challa's palace and Wakanda. Every tree in their vicinity was named, every flower described, every part of the palace detailed.

"Believe it or not, she gets the talking from Clint," Natasha whispered to Wanda.

"I believe it," Wanda said with a laugh. "I stayed with them for the summer, remember?"

"I never knew how he made it through quiet ops – but he always did – and then as soon as we were extracted, he usually went into hyperverbal overdrive for a day or two."

Wanda watched Cassie and Lila, her smile soft and warm. "It's good, that they have each other."

Natasha nodded. They shared lunch and Laura asked Lila if she wanted to show Cassie her bedroom. The little girl did – and they were off, leaving Wanda and Natasha to gather the picnic remnants together and return them to the kitchen. "I wanted to take a look at the library," Wanda said, referring to the room T'Challa had reminded them again that they were more than welcome to utilize. "Do you know where it is?"

"I do," Natasha responded. She pointed down one of the main hallways and led Wanda to the magnificent room. The light wood and frequent windows that opened onto the jungle gave the room a bright, airy feel. Book cases lined every wall from floor to ceiling. Both women searched the collection – which held books in a multitude of languages. Wanda, still trying to perfect her English, borrowed several classics in that language while Natasha amusedly found a Russian copy of The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky.

On the way back to their suite, Wanda stopped on the second floor and waved Natasha over to a lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows. From it, they could see the treehouse that was being built. They watched with smiles as the boys worked. Steve, Clint, and even T'Challa were there – and they looked as invested as the young boys.

"So who do you think wants this tree house?" Natasha asked. Wanda smiled even brighter. They both gasped in surprise and horror as Clint lost his foothold – but then he righted himself again quickly after catching his own fall by somersaulting to a new branch. "I can't watch this," Natasha told her. Wanda shook her head in agreement and they continued walking up the nearest flight of stairs to the next floor. They spent the afternoon reading and then watching a movie together while waiting for the boys to return in - hopefully - one piece each.

* * *

 

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	9. Confessions

Chapter 9 – Confessions

It was early in the morning – just after breakfast – and Natasha was helping Laura make cookies in one of the smaller of the palace's kitchens. Baking was not something she did often – but it was a skill the Red Room had instilled. It was difficult to go under cover as a doting girlfriend or wife without knowing how to cook and bake. Natasha had avoided it for a long time after joining SHIELD – but baking with Laura was calming and full of happiness – something she looked forward to.

They were having a quiet discussion when Cooper and Peter burst into the kitchen from outside. "Mom!" Cooper cried, breathlessly excited.

"Cooper!" Laura shouted back in the same tone, smiling. He and Peter stopped in front of the counter.

"King T'Challa invited us to go on the hunting trip – dad said we can go if you and Aunt Nat say it's okay."

"What kind of hunting?" Laura asked.

"Panthers," Peter said, eyes wide. "Which seems kind of weird, considering the King's superhero persona, but I don't think it's a good idea to argue with a king."

Natasha shook her head as she smiled. She looked at Laura and then at both boys.

She knew T'Challa wouldn't invite them if it were going to be a dangerous trip. But Natasha checked to be sure there would be ample supervision anyway. "Are your dad and Steve going?"

Peter and Cooper both nodded excitedly. Natasha looked at Laura again and shrugged just slightly.

"You can go," Laura declared. "But you listen to every word any grownup tells you – and be extremely careful."

"Thank you mom," Cooper said, racing around the counter to hug her. Peter did the same with Natasha – surprising her in the act's spontaneous and casual nature – and then the two boys ran back out as fast as they had come – with several still-warm cookies that they'd stolen from the cooling racks.

The two women were quiet for a solid minute. Laura knew Natasha well enough to realize that the impromptu hug had rocked her a bit; it brought out more emotions than the redhead was comfortable dealing with at one time. She decided to stick with a safe topic. "Do you think T'Challa is really hunting panthers?" She leaned against the counter as she watched her friend form more dough into balls.

"More likely that he's teasing the boys," Natasha responded, placing a perfect sphere on the baking stone and pressing it down even so slightly. "Pretty sure panthers are sacred around here."

"What are they hunting? Should I be worried?"

"If they're hunting big five game, Clint and Steve wouldn't go for it – I don't think T'Challa would either. And anything else should be safe enough," Natasha assured her. She looked up and met Laura's eyes.

"What are you staring at me?"

Laura hadn't realized she'd been doing it, but she had. She had been studying her longtime friend. "I was just wondering," she said softly. "How are things going?"

Natasha looked at her oddly – they'd been together for over two weeks – Laura already knew how things were going. "What do you mean? Other than being a fugitive from most of the world's governments, things are fine." She finished the last of the cookie dough and wiped her hands on a towel before going over to the tablet she'd been using to find recipes. She called one up for brownies, ignoring Laura's probing gaze.

"Nat, how is it going with the kids?"

"Fine," Natasha answered briskly. "They're not really kids," she allowed. "Well – Peter is certainly young. And Wanda's is too. But they're not kids."

"They are," Laura argued. "They're so young. They shouldn't have to deal with everything coming their way." She sighed softly. "Nat, from what I've seen – you and Steve have done a wonderful job helping them deal with some really terrible realities. I hope you see that you're doing great."

Natasha shrugged. "It's been easier than I imagined," she said. "For the most part."

"It's easier when they're ridiculously lovable," Laura told her. She laughed. "That's the only reason I've been able to put up with Clint all these years." Natasha smiled and began setting out the ingredients for the next recipe.

"It's dangerous," she said, quickly so she couldn't change her mind. It was clearly something she had been thinking about for a long time but hadn't wanted to admit. Laura looked at her, waiting for more information. Natasha raised her eyebrows a bit, expressing her own surprise. "It's dangerous to love so many people. The chances of losing – "

"It doesn't make the love any less worthy of having," Laura told her in a whisper, pulling her close in a hug from the side. Natasha allowed her to hold her for a moment, then shook her off.

"You're just trying to distract me so your cookies turn out better than mine."

Laura laughed cheerfully. "Oh, darling, that is just inevitable." She went back to work on her own cookies and they changed the subject – keeping it light for the rest of the morning.

The day after the hunt, T'challa announced a huge meal in his formal dining room, inviting everyone to join in. "They're cooking what we hunted today?" Peter asked, his eyes bugging a bit as he attempted in vain to knot his necktie. He'd showered, been forced into a button down and slacks, and had never tied a real tie in his life. He was sitting at the end of Steve and Natasha's bed, watching them get ready for dinner.

"That's what you do after you hunt," Steve told him. "That's the reason for hunting." Natasha turned around and walked over, swatting his hands away from his throat.

"You're going to choke yourself with your own tie," she told him. She quickly tied it for him and went back to the small vanity table to finish her makeup. "Pete, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

"I don't want to insult the king," he said. "But I don't think I can. I don't think I'm supposed to meet my food before it's dead. It's kind of messing with my head."

Natasha smiled amusedly. "Eat whatever sides there are – avoid the meat if you need to. If you're still hungry we'll find you something later tonight."

"I am also not eating whatever it is you dragged in from the jungle," Wanda informed them, gliding into the room and sitting next to Peter. She was already dressed for dinner in a maroon and black dress.

Steve finished with his hair, straightened his tie, and turned to look at them with a disapproving crease between his eyes. "You know, when I was a kid – "

"We know!" Both Peter and Wanda told him simultaneously and emphatically, causing Natasha to laugh merrily. Steve had lectured them before on what it was like to grow up in the great depression – you were thankful for what you got, yada yada. Although they were usually good natured about hearing him out, they didn't need to hear it again in that moment. Wanda didn't need to be reminded that she knew what it was like to be hungry. But she also felt – in a time and place of plenty – no need to force herself to eat something that she was uncomfortable with.

Steve shook his head. "My mother would have tanned you both," Steve muttered.

"Which we know now, thanks to years of psychological and physiological research, is not effective in any positive way," Natasha told him, offering a knowing smile and tilting her head at him. Steve was usually a completely sweetheart and pushover, but occasionally his 1940s values system showed up and he was a bit of a grumpy old man. But Natasha's interference brought him back to reality and he responded playfully.

He raised an eyebrow and stared into her eyes. "Do you read every scientific study you can find – or just the ones that you think will one day help you argue with me?"

"Captain," she murmured, gazing at him through eyelashes "I started reading long before I met you. Don't take it personally, I like proving wrong a wide variety of people." He was leaning close and she was just about to kiss him when Wanda clapped her hands.

"We're still here," Wanda reminded them.

"Can you seriously flirt over scientific research?" Peter asked. "Because that could be a game changer."

"You can't," Wanda assured him with a smug smile. He elbowed her and dashed away in time to avoid any retribution. Wanda left the room too, worrying that they weren't going to stop being affectionate – nothing something she cared to witness when it could be helped.

Within ten minutes, the four walked to dinner and sat in their allotted spaces at the large, beautifully dressed table. Wanda and Peter did both avoid the meat that had been caught that day – as did Lila, Cooper, and Cassie. Sharon didn't say she was avoiding the meat, but they noticed she hadn't taken any either. Natasha graciously took a small piece when the platter was passed to her. T'Challa did not seem the least bit displeased that some chose to forgo their prize from the hunt.

* * *

 

Although they had arrived in the rainy season, they had been led astray by the nice weather for the first few weeks. It had been wet, but it mostly rained at night, leaving the days full of sun. They woke up in the third week to torrential downpours that seemed like they would never end. Peter shrugged at the rain and went off to find Cooper and then T'Challa to get permission to visit the science and technology labs. Wanda had paced the suite so many times by mid-morning that it was distracting Natasha, who was going through more encrypted data that Maria had sent to her.

She looked up from her laptop and stared at the teenager. "Wanda, why don't you go downstairs to the training level? The track has a lot more room to pace." The young woman stopped, clearly a bit surprised to be pulled from her own thoughts. She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she told Natasha. She sat down on the nearest sofa, curled her legs up beside her, and reached for the closest book. And then a few minutes later, she started taping her foot. Eventually, Natasha put away her work and walked over to the sofa, standing above Wanda. It only took a few seconds for Wanda to realize she was there and look up at her.

"Five minutes – we are going to the track." Wanda sighed, but did go to change into yoga pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and tennis shoes. "When is the last time you used your powers?" Natasha asked on the way there. When Wanda couldn't answer, Natasha sighed. "Then it's been too long," she chastised.

Steve was already there, punching a specially reinforced punching bag. He waved when he saw them. "I don't want to use my magic," Wanda told Natasha as they set their things down on a bench.

"That's fine – for now. We can just walk." There was a track that ran the whole way around the room, built into a second tier that circled the other available areas. They climbed the stairs and began walking. "Have you talked to Sharon about how much you avoid your powers?" Wanda shrugged. "Does it still hurt to not use them?"

"Not terribly," she answered. "I'm used to it now."

"Not a completely comforting answer," Natasha told her.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course," Natasha said. "We wouldn't want to talk about anything that actually affects our lives," she added sarcastically. Wanda chose to ignore the tone.

"Are you ever going to tell anyone that you and Steve are – well, doing whatever you're doing?"

"It's not anyone's business," Natasha informed her. "And if anyone had half a brain, they would already know. We've been together for almost a year – we worked closely together for years before that. And there are only three bedrooms in these suites. And if you're not going to talk about your anxiety, then I'm not talking about my relationships. New topic."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life," Wanda said, seemingly surprising them both with her candor. "Is Ross going to look for us forever? Even if he doesn't, what am I supposed to do if I'm not an Avenger?"

"I wish I had an easy answer for you," Natasha told her. "You're not the only one struggling with those thoughts. I can tell you that eventually, it will work out. You will find something that you enjoy – something that feels right. It might take time, but it will happen."

"And Ross?"

"I have something that I think might be able to be used against him. It might even be something that could put him in jail. But I need more time. I'll tell you more when I'm certain of the next steps."

Wanda wanted to ask more – to pry for details – but Steve had stepped onto the track and caught up with them during their third circuit. He had spent the morning sparring with Sam and now walked the track with them – looping them occasionally but mostly sticking with them. They were finishing two miles when Sharon appeared on the track, having walked up from the lower level.

"Hi, guys," she said cheerfully.

"Hey, Sharon," Steve answered. Natasha and Wanda also offered friendly greetings.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asked conversationally.

"Well, it's the only polite place to practice shooting," Sharon told her with a smile, motioning toward one end of the huge room. There were stairs that led down to a shooting gallery. "And I don't want to be out of practice. There are a lot of people in the world who might need to be shot."

"She's not wrong," Natasha said, amused at the way the other woman had framed it.

"I was going to walk around a few times," Sharon said, gesturing to the track. "Are you finished – or still walking?"

"You go," Natasha told Wanda. "I'm going to make the Captain spar with me." Wanda reluctantly continued walking with Sharon as Natasha trotted down the stairs and Steve followed. She liked Sharon, but she knew the woman was trying to fit in as many therapy sessions as possible – and Wanda preferred to ignore her problems, not matter how much that hurt in the end.

"I knew I should have gone into the jungle last week when T'Challa offered," Sharon said. "I don't know if it's going to stop raining before I need to leave."

"You're not missing much," Wanda told her honestly. "T'Challa has healthier and prettier plants in his garden."

"You'd be perfectly happy to stay in the palace, wouldn't you?" She asked with a smile.

Wanda shrugged. "I spent several years on the streets in Sokovia. Dismissing the comfort of a palace seems discourteous after that. And I do like the gardens," she argued.

Sharon studied her as they continued on the track. "How long did you live on the streets?"

Wanda considered the question. "We had turned ten just before the explosion – we were homeless immediately after that. And we stayed on the streets until we volunteered for the experiments. We were fourteen then."

"Where did you stay, when you were homeless?"

Wanda shrugged. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then continued. "There were churches who tried to help," she told Sharon. "But there were so many children on the street. There wasn't a lot they could do. No one had much in Sokovia. When they had food, they opened up for dinner. In the evening, after church services, they allowed us to sleep in the pews. We did that a lot. There were other shelters – but the church seemed safer. It was – we didn't have too much trouble there."

"What did you do during the day?"

"Pietro stole what he could – but I wasn't comfortable with that. I always was worried he would get hurt. I tried to find ways to make money. There was a baker who knew our mother. She allowed me to help in the shop – and she gave me food. It kept us from starving. When she could spare it, she would give us a bit of money."

"No school?"

Wanda shook her head. "No. It's not free like it is in America. There is tuition – and the cost for books – and school clothing. It just wasn't possible." They walked in silence for another circle around the track, until Wanda mustered the courage to speak about what was really bothering her.

"How do I stop being afraid – of myself? Of my magic?"

"That's a good question," Sharon answered. "I think it has to do with confidence. And dealing with the trauma of what happened in Lagos. It wasn't your fault – and until you can accept that, it's going to be difficult to use your powers with confidence. You can't afford to second guess yourself."

"I don't know how to do that," Wanda admitted. "If it wasn't my fault – who is to blame?"

Sharon shook her head. "We can't assign blame for everything that happens. Otherwise, we'd never be able to actually live. Sometimes things happen – and we do our best to help survivors recover from it – but blaming one person or one group isn't going to change what happened – you can't undo the past."

"It could stop future accidents," Wanda said. "They all think I'm going to explode. Tony called me a weapon of mass destruction."

"He's wrong," Sharon told her. "Tony worries about things he can't control. But we've been talking for almost a year now – and I don't believe for a second that you're a threat to anyone – unless of course, they deserve it."

Wanda smiled sadly. "And who am I to say they deserve it?" Wanda asked.

"If they're shooting at you or your loved ones – they deserve it," Sharon told her. They kept going and spoke for another hour – Sharon offering advice on how Wanda could start to try to forgive herself for what happened in Lagos – to Pietro – in Sokovia. The kid carried a lot of guilt, none of which was productive in helping her move on.

* * *

 

Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review or comment. Thank you to all those who have already – but I would love to see more feedback from more readers. It offers additional and much-needed inspiration.


	10. Fears and Faults

I'm sorry for the delay - I struggled with parts of this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 10 – Fears and Faults

They had been in Wakanda for five weeks. It had been calm and relaxing for all of them. Peter and Cooper had finished their tree house and now spent most of their days in it. Wanda had been through several shelves of T'Challa's library and had even begun to privately – and tentatively – practice her magic again.

Her disposition was a sunny one that morning. She walked down the main staircase, Cassie and Lila on either side, holding her hands and telling her all of the exciting things they had planned for their walk in the gardens. They were particularly excited about the new bugs they were discovering under T'Challa's stones and on his plants. Some of the gardeners had figured out their game and were saving the really interesting ones for them. They were passing the front corridor when she heard a voice that made her freeze. The little girls didn't notice and kept talking. Wanda motioned for them to wait in the hall and peeked into the main parlor. Natasha, Steve, and T'Challa were all standing in a loose formation around the room, staring at Tony Stark with stone expressions as he spoke in his traditional enthusiastic story-telling manner.

Wanda felt her heart sink. Every bit of progress she'd made since Pietro's death of not hating Tony Stark had been wiped out when he'd had her put in prison. In Australia, she'd still been too stunned to really consider his presence. Now, she was not so lucky. She quickly turned around and led the girls outside, ignoring Steve's voice as he called after her. The next few hours were spent following the two little girls around, watching them explore and listening to them tell stories about the things they found. They were enchanted by this new world; Wanda wished she could be too. She unfortunately couldn't stop thinking about the world outside. Tony infringing upon the peace they'd found could not be good – and was making her sick to her stomach.

Steve, Natasha, and Laura found them later in the afternoon – Laura was – probably at Natasha's request - looking for Lila and offered to take Cassie as well. Wanda waved as the girls did and watched them go. She began walking away from the palace toward the outer gardens. The other two followed. They eventually caught up with her and the three walked down the path together with Wanda in the center.

"We didn't know he was coming," Natasha told her. "We would have warned you."

"I know," Wanda answered evenly. "What does he want?"

Natasha shook her head. "Honestly, I think he's lonely. He claims he's here to talk to T'Challa about some new weapons system – but I don't really buy it."

"How long is he staying?"

"Wanda, you don't have to talk to Tony – " Steve started to say.

"Well, thank you for that permission," Wanda snapped. She was angrier than even she realized. She hugged her arms across her chest, her pace quickening. Not that she could outwalk – or outrun – Captain America or the Black Widow.

"I know it seems like the accords are Tony's fault," Natasha said calmly. "But Wanda, the government has been putting them together for years – even before you were discovered – it would have happened either way." She paused. "I signed too," she reminded her.

"You let Steve and Bucky go," Wanda reminded her. "Tony watched while they electrocuted me and then loaded us into vans like animals. That's hard to forget." They didn't try to argue with her. She was still in pain and – although Tony couldn't be blamed for the accords – Wanda's feelings also couldn't be discounted.

That night, Natasha ordered dinner to the suite for Wanda. She dangled black stones from her ears that matched her sweater and skirt. She dabbed on a bit of perfume and called to Steve – who was still in the bathroom shaving – that she'd meet him in the living room. Peter was dressed for dinner – wrinkling his previously-perfectly-pressed pants and button down while sprawling ungracefully across a sofa, a sheath of papers raised above his head while he read. It was a research paper on flexible electronics that Natasha had seen sitting on the coffee table earlier that afternoon.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" She asked Wanda, who was curled into a chair by the fireplace. Steve had built and banked a large fire and Wanda was nestled into a blanket while she read a dystopian novel. She looked up at Natasha.

"I can eat by myself for one night without having a nervous breakdown," she said with a touch of snark.

"I never said you couldn't," Natasha answered with a forgiving smile. "I asked if you were sure."

"I'm fine," Wanda promised. "Go – be social. I have no intention of leaving the suite."

"Ok," Natasha said, her hand falling to Wanda's shoulder as Steve appeared, looking quite dapper in his shirt and tie. Although it felt weird to dress up for dinner, it was held in a royal dining room on the nights when T'Challa hosted them, so it was only polite. Peter begged to differ, but he was largely ignored. The dinner table was full, with all of the Bartons, Scott and Cassie, Sam, Sharon, Tony, and T'Challa himself.

Tony noticed Wanda's absence immediately. "No Wanda?" He asked. Natasha shook her head – but he couldn't let it go; he was Tony, after all. "She'd didn't want to say hello?"

"She's tired," Natasha said – which was entirely true – she hadn't been sleeping – but entirely not the reason. Tony smirked in a way that indicated how little he believed her.

Once dinner was over, T'challa invited everyone to join him in the library for dessert and games. Natasha played a game of chess with Cooper before excusing herself from the group to return to the suite.

Wanda had moved to the sofa and the fire was dying. Natasha went to her bedroom and changed into lounge pants and a soft sweater before returning to the living room and sitting on the other end of the sofa.

"You doing ok?"

"Fine," Wanda told her, looking up from her book. She looked at Natasha's expression and sighed. "I hate him," she said sadly. I know it's not rational," she added somberly.

"Emotions often aren't," Natasha said. "You don't have to like Tony – you don't have to talk to him. But hating him – or fearing him – that's only going to hurt you. Those kinds of feelings tear away at you, little by little. You deserve better than that."

"I don't know how to get past it. I'm angry when I even think about him."

Natasha shrugged. "Yeah, he used to piss me off a lot too," she agreed.

"What changed?"

"I've mellowed with age," Natasha mused.

"This is you mellow? That makes it frightening to imagine you before," Wanda informed her.

Natasha smiled. "You have no idea," she agreed. "But seriously, I think part of the reason I can handle Tony now – is that I know him better. He does stupid things – frequently – but his heart is always in the right place. His intentions are always good."

"What is it they say about the road to hell?" Wanda asked wryly.

Natasha smiled at her. "It's okay if it takes time – just do me a favor and don't spent too much energy on Tony." Wanda nodded, agreeing that she would try. Natasha stole half of Wanda's blanket to cover her feet, which she brought up to rest next to her. She grabbed the remote and turned on the television that hung on the wall in a gilded frame. Wanda set her book aside as the older woman searched for a movie. Peter and Steve returned and changed into lounge clothes in just enough time to join them for a Lord of the Rings marathon.

Tony attempted to speak with Wanda several times in the next few days, but no one would allow him in the suite – which was now kept locked – and she refused to come out. "I want to apologize." He said with a roll of his eyes as Natasha came out into the hall later that week, locking the door behind her.

"She's not ready for your apology," the redhead told him. "Give it time, Tony. Stalking her is not endearing you to her."

A few days later, Wanda was still keeping herself sequestered in the suite to avoid Tony. Steve walked into the living room to see her reading a book that he could have sworn she'd finished already. "Is that book really good, or are you avoiding the library?" Steve asked.

"Must it be one or the other?" Wanda asked.

"Wanda, you can't hide in here forever."

"I am not hiding," she informed him. "Everyone knows where I am."

Steve sighed. "Come on – let's go outside. The rain had finally let up – let's go for a walk. I haven't seen the eastern side of the gardens yet."

Wanda considered him. "Are you going to leave me alone if I say no?"

"No," he said, grinning. "Go – you need boots. It's muddy."

Wanda shook her head but set her book aside and went to her room to change into clothing she wasn't afraid of getting covered in mud. They walked through the gardens – and right to an entrance of the jungle. Wanda shook her head as she saw Steve considering it.

"No," she told him.

"Come on," he said. "You haven't been in there yet. It's kind of awesome."

"I'm fine with the gardens, thank you," Wanda assured him.

"Come on," Steve said. "I'll show you the treehouse Peter and Cooper are working on – it's pretty amazing." Wanda hesitated. The treehouse was far enough on the edge of the jungle that you could see it from the palace – she and Natasha had watched them working on it several times.

"Fine," she agreed. She followed him into the jungle. It was as amazing as he'd promised. The flowers were more plentiful and the colors richer than they were in the garden. They made it to the treehouse and Steve showed her everything they had been working on – there were several different types of entrances. They explored it and the jungle for the rest of the afternoon until Steve suggested that if they didn't head back – they would be late for dinner.

* * *

After more than a week of hiding from Tony, Wanda was tired of it. She didn't want to eat by herself in the suite again. She knew she could ask someone to stay back – and they would – but that felt childish. Instead, she dressed for dinner and walked down to the dining room with Natasha. The meal went fairly well – it gave her time to speak with Sam, who sat to her right and Laura, who was across from her. She was going to head back to the suite after the meal, but Lila and Cassie begged her to come to the library and play a game with them. She acquiesced, moving with everyone else to the library for dessert and games – which had become a new mini-tradition.

She was focused on playing with the girls, so she missed the beginning part of the conversation. But as voices raised, she turned her attention to Tony, who was on the other side of the room conversing with Sam and Steve.

"You guys have really lost your sense of humor," Tony said. "Did you leave it on the raft?" Sam and Steve were not amused – and their scowls showed it. A tremor ran through Wanda and her eyes momentarily lit red with anger.

"How dare you joke," Wanda said, her voice barely traveling across the room. It took Tony a moment to even realize she was speaking to him. Natasha ended her conversation with Sharon and T'Challa and crossed the carpet, standing next to Wanda, placing a hand on her shoulder in warning. The younger woman shrugged off the attempt to quiet her. "He thinks it is funny, what they did in that prison," she hissed angrily.

" _Wandzia, this is not the time_ ," Natasha told her in a calm, quiet tone. " _Little ears_ ," she reminded her in Russian, head gesturing with a nod to Cassie, Lila, and Cooper. Peter had been teaching Scott chess and was now watching the conversation, his eyes a bit wider than normal.

"Little witch, you better listen to your new mommy there and mind your own business. The grownups are talking." He raised his glass of bourbon, tipping it at her.

"Tony," Steve warned. "Don't start."

"No – seriously – she has been judging me all week for something that she did to herself. I didn't ask her to break the law – in fact – I tried to protect her. But now I'm the bad guy?" He scoffed.

"Stop, Tony," Steve said.

"Tony, that's enough," Natasha threw in.

"She's the one they're afraid of," he said, pointing to Wanda. "You think the Sokovia Accords were written for the rest of us? They didn't appear until after the powers of Scarlet Witch were revealed. Fastest legislation anyone's ever come up with in modern times," he scoffed. "Controlling or containing her," he said, his voice getting louder, "was the purpose. And they're not going to stop until they have her."

"It's time to call it a night," Clint said, loudly interrupting the argument. Laura and Clint gathered up the children and she led them out the door. Cooper looked angry – Lila was crying. Cassie glared at Tony as she walked by, her hand in Laura's. Once the children were gone, the atmosphere amped right back up.

"You can't blame Wanda for the accords" Natasha told him. "If I remember correctly, the unmasking of Ironman was the first time laws governing enhanced individuals were spoken about. There were hearings about your suits," she added with a look of incredulity. "This isn't Wanda's fault. It's something we've all helped create – it's been blown out of proportion – and we need to fix it."

"So what? So you can go back to your lives like before?" Tony asked. "You think that's possible? No one is going to allow us to be privatized again."

"We'll build new ones," Natasha said with a sad smile. "Most of us have done it before."

Tony rolled his eyes. "It doesn't bother you?" He asked snidely, "to build your life around a weapon of mass destruction?" He asked, motioning to Wanda.

Steve's expression was one of pure anger. "Tony, stop. You need to leave –"

Tony's temper flared, probably not helped in the least by his alcohol intake. "Bottom line - She's nuts! She has no emotional stability – it's like having a bomb with a pressure sensor under a teeter totter. Eventually it's going to go off."

"Do you really want to start on instability right now?" Natasha asked him quietly. "You don't have a lot of room to talk, Tony. None to judge."

"You can't blame Wanda for everything that's gone down with the accords," Steve said tightly. "I don't think we can blame anyone – but if you're insisting on it, then look in the mirror. You're the reason Ultron happened – "

Tony shook his head. "Ultron?" He laughed. "You know what? Everyone blames me for Ultron. But the witch? She saw it – she let it happen. Sokovia is as much her fault as Nigeria."

"I saw what you would do with the scepter," Wanda spat. "And I let you take it. That doesn't make it my fault – you have free will. You chose to create Ultron. And I lost everything – everything you hadn't already taken from me," she hissed.

"Oh, boo hoo, a bomb that my company sold – a company I did not start, mind you, killed your mommy and daddy? If it wasn't my bomb, it would have been someone else's. It's the price of living in a war-torn country. Not my fault, little witch. Grow up and move on." Steve was now holding Wanda, keeping her from removing her bracelets and creating havoc she would later regret. Through the chaos and her own stealth, no one noticed that Natasha had moved – until Tony landed on his ass, holding the left side of his jaw.

"You're finished," she informed him, standing over him. She turned back to face the rest of the room. She gestured toward the doorway to the hall. "I think it's time for everyone to go to their rooms."

Sam squinted at her as he walked past. He leaned close to Clint in the hall. "To clarify, was I just sent to my room by Black Widow?"

"You were, my friend. We all were."

"Go!" Natasha's voice boomed behind them, sending them a bit faster. Sharon took Wanda from Steve and led her to the stairs. Steve sent Peter along with them.

T'Challa and Steve watched the tableau of Ironman on his ass in front of Black Widow. They were both speechless.

"I can't believe you hit me," Tony said a few minutes later, his words a bit slurred due to the swelling in his jaw. He sat on a sofa, an icepack pressed to his face.

"I've been waiting a long time for a good enough reason to do that," Natasha informed him. "There didn't seem to be another way to shut you up."

Tony glared at her but then grimaced when the movement hurt his face.

"She's dangerous – you know it."

"She's still a kid," Natasha responded. "She need to learn to control her powers better. But she's not dangerous. You don't know her."

"Do you even understand what happened in that prison?" Steve asked.

"So what – they roughed her up? Nothing she hadn't experienced in a battle."

"Really?" Natasha asked, her anger peaking again. "I don't remember being gang raped in any battles. Or sodomized – or whipped. Peed on, electrocuted, injected with God knows what drugs." Tony's face whitened as she spoke. "Those are the types of things that happened to Wanda in that prison. Clint, Scott, and Sam heard most of it. She can't sleep – she's too afraid to use her magic. They really couldn't have found a better way to ruin a human being, Stark. And the saddest part?"

Tony looked up at her, listening and in utter shock. "She is still a child looking for somewhere to belong. No matter all the crap that she's been through – all of the torture – all of the people's she's lost – she's still willing to put herself out there because she wants a family, she wants to be loved, and she wants to have a place to call home."

Tony looked devastated. "Look, I'm – "

"Do not apologize," Natasha told him. "You pushed and pushed – you just couldn't leave her alone and let someone dislike you. Whatever fallout comes – it's on you." She stalked away, not sparing another glance for any of them.

Wanda was exhausted but wound up when Sharon led her into her bedroom. "Why must he be so arrogant?" She fumed. "I have done nothing for myself – ever. I do not enjoy using my powers. I don't get a thrill from using them against others. I am not a weapon."

"Of course you're not," Sharon said softly. "Tony has his own problems, Wanda. He needs someone to blame. It's not right, but it is what's happened." Wanda continued pacing the room in silence while Sharon watched. The older woman ordered herbal tea from the kitchen and checked on Peter before joining Wanda once again.

When Natasha and Steve arrived, Sharon wasn't sure how Wanda was still standing – she looked beyond tired. Sharon left as the two others entered. "Call me if you need me," she said, patting Steve on the shoulder as she passed him.

Wanda didn't stop pacing when they entered, but she altered her path to stay farther away from them. "Are you going to pace all night?" Natasha asked, her voice laced with what came off as curiosity instead of judgement.

"I might," Wanda answered firmly.

"Wanda," Steve said, leaning forward.

"I want to be alone."

"That's not going to happen," Natasha responded. She gently kicked off her heels and sat back on the bed, positioning herself to lean against the pillow-strewn headboard while she watched Wanda pace. Steve sat down in the desk chair and sighed, looking at the ground. Wanda continued to pace. They allowed her to continue until – along with the adrenaline rush from the argument and subsequent crash – she exhausted herself.

She sat next to Natasha on the wed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm tired of people being afraid of me. I don't know what else to do – to prove that I'm not trying to hurt anyone."

"You don't have to do anything," Natasha assured her. "It takes time. And Tony is stubborn – "

"It's not just Tony," she responded. "People are afraid of me. In this house – everywhere. They fear what I can do. They walk out of a room when I walk in." They spent the next hour speaking with Wanda, telling her time and again that she wasn't dangerous – that she didn't need to fear herself. They weren't sure how helpful it was – but she seemed calmer when Natasha left her alone with Steve so she could check on Peter.

She knocked on the door to his bedroom and waited until she heard Peter tell her she could enter. She did, closing the door behind her. "You okay?" She asked, sliding a chair over from the desk and perching on it.

Peter knocked over the structure he had been building from super polymer plastic pieces that one of the scientists had helped him 3D print. The pieces scattered off of the physics book base and landed in shimmery fragments across the bedspread. He shrugged his shoulders in answer to her question. "I don't know. Mr. Stark has always been good to me – and helped me. But what he said about Wanda – it's not true."

Natasha nodded. "I know that – you know that. We just need to make sure Wanda knows that."

"Why would he say those things?"

Natasha pursed her lips and shook her head. "I've known Tony for a long time – and I honestly can't tell you why he does half of what he does. As for what he says – he's not known for having a filter."

"Does he really think Wanda is dangerous?"

Natasha considered it. "I'm not sure what he really believes. I think he's afraid of things he can't control – and Wanda and her powers fall solidly under that umbrella."

Peter's voice lowered and he almost looked ashamed to ask the next question. "Do you think Wanda is dangerous?"

"Not anymore. Not to anyone beyond herself."

That night, after they were in their own room and lying together in the dark, Steve asked a question that had been bothering him since their conversation with Tony. "How do you know?" He asked, speaking softly into Natasha's ear. "What happened to Wanda on the raft?"

She sighed and rolled over, facing him in the dark room. "Maria found the security tapes. I was able to decode them."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I shouldn't have even seen them," Natasha said. "It felt like a huge betrayal to Wanda – watching them at all. But once I realized what they were – I had to know. No one else can see them – unless she chooses to use them."

"Use them?"

"They prove that Ross not only knew what was going on, he encouraged it – and he participated. It's enough to put him in jail – but in order to be used…" She sighed. The videos would become evidence, leaving Wanda vulnerable in so many ways. "The things they did," she said sadly.

Steve's eyes were blazing but he was trying to hold back his anger. "Ross hurt her directly?"

Natasha nodded.

"I don't think I can handle this right now," he told her honestly. She nodded and squeezed his hand.

"It's a lot to take in."

"When are you going to tell Wanda that you have the video?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know. I broke the encryption the day before we had to leave. I thought it was too much to put on her shoulders when we were traveling – and then her nightmares picked back up during the first week here. She's been mostly happy here, other than the issues with Tony. I couldn't see risking her mental health on something that's only going to make her life more difficult – especially since I don't have details worked out on how we could use it."


	11. Find Strength in pain

Chapter 11 – Find Strength in Pain

None of them had slept well the night before, but they were still up early – it was ingrained in Natasha and Steve – and Wanda and Peter were actually both feeling too miserable to sleep. Wanda considered hiding in her room for the day – but she knew they would eventually come to check on her – so she appeared on her own terms, going to the table and pouring herself a cup of tea. Within ten minutes they were all sitting together, quietly eating breakfast.

It was a comfortable quiet, disturbed when a knock sounded on the suite door. Wanda eyes signaled anxiety and she moved to disappear into her room but Natasha shook her head, putting out a hand that indicated she should stay. This was her home for the time being – and she should not be chased out of it. Steve stood to answer the door and revealed Tony on the other side. Steve's stance stiffened and he glowered at the other man. "It's not a good time, Tony."

Tony raised an eyebrow and sighed. He had clearly not expected a warmer reception. "I'm leaving today – I need to speak to you and Natasha before I do." The woman rolled her eyes at her breakfast – and at Peter and Wanda who were sitting across from her – before standing.

"Stay here," she said shortly to the teenagers. They were a strange mixture of angry, sad, and anxious – but they did as they were told and remained at the table as she stalked across the room, placed a hand on Steve's arm, and stepped out into the hall with him. The door shut with a final click. Peter and Wanda exchanged glances.

"Can you hear them from in here?"

Wanda concentrated for a moment, then dragged her spoon through her yogurt and shook her head. "Only if I go into their minds – and I'm not doing that." She respected Natasha and Steve too much to go into their heads – and, at the moment, she hated Tony too much.

"That's okay," Peter responded, eyes lighting up. He seemed cheered for the first time since the fight the night before. "I think I have another idea." Wanda knew that waiting was probably their best bet – but discouraging Peter when he seemed so excited was more than she was prepared to do. She simply listened and watched, keeping her opinions to herself. She wouldn't help him – but she also wouldn't stop him.

Natasha and Steve walked with Tony down the hall to a communal living area with large windows that overlooked the jungle. Tony stared out the windows until Natasha became agitated. "What is it?" She demanded. "I'm not standing out here and letting my granola get soggy just to stare at you."

He turned back to them. "I'm leaving today."

"So you said," she answered. "After last night's antics, that's probably the best idea. I would highly suggest you cut the booze as well. Maybe try to get back on Pepper's good side." His expression hardened at her last suggestion. Although she knew he took it as a cut at him, she meant it in another way. Tony needed Pepper. Natasha had known that from the moment she'd seen them together. Pepper Potts was possibly the only person on earth who could make Tony calm down and think rationally in the worst of times. Her love for him gave him courage to stop second guessing everything – and when she exited the picture – he was the worse for it.

"Yes, I was drunk – and I probably shouldn't have said what I did. But I didn't say anything that wasn't true – and you know it – " He stopped when they both glared at him. He cleared his throat, as though he had intended to end there. "Never mind – it doesn't matter – she is very clearly your problem now. But Peter – I'm taking him back with me."

"The hell you are," Natasha said viscerally. Her response was much quicker and less calculated than usual. There was too much emotion behind it – and she knew it. She had shown her hand – and she hated herself for it. She had become attached – to her own detriment. Her stomach was tying itself into knots with every breath.

"I gave him to you for safekeeping," Tony said. "Thanks – you kept him safe," he added glibly.

"He's a kid, Tony," Steve interrupted. "Not an object. You can't give him to someone. Peter seems happy where he is – and it's not safe for him to come out of hiding, let alone go back to the US. You are the one who's been telling us all week that Ross isn't giving up." He had given them intel on all of Ross' movements – and if anything, it seemed like the man willing to go to insane lengths to find and capture them. He was not remotely close to backing down.

"I am not having this conversation," Natasha told them both. She shook her head at Tony. "He's not leaving with you – end of story."

"Really, Red?" Tony asked. He cocked his head to the side slightly. "You know, before this visit, I never pegged you for the mother bear type." He shrugged. "We can all be wrong sometimes." He waved a hand in the air. "Peter will be perfectly safe in the tower. He can work on building and experimenting. He's been sorely lacking a proper education." He rolled his eyes at them. "You took him to a school without an advanced science and math curriculum."

"Our priority was his safety," Steve reminded Tony.

"You know his work would have given him away," Natasha said sharply. "And again – I'm not having this conversation – the answer is no. Unless you'd like me to kick your ass, I'd leave now – " She turned on her heel but was only a few steps away when Tony's voice stopped her.

"You're not even going to give him the option?" Tony asked, shrugging. "Making a decision for him without consulting him – kind of sounds like something the Red Room would do – " They all knew the moment that it came out of his mouth, he had gone too far. Natasha turned back to him, her eyes blazing. Her thoughts – the tirade about to come forth – were stopped by a voice from above.

"I won't go." They looked up to see Peter peering down at them from a vent he'd clearly pried open. "I'm sorry Mr. Stark," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I'm really thankful to you for saving me – and helping me. And I'd love to focus more on science. But it's not safe in New York. And I don't want to live somewhere where I have to be stuck inside all the time." Tony looked like he was going to argue, but Peter's expression saddened before he continued. "And I still think you're cool and all – but you should really think about what you say. You're wrong about Wanda. Someday, when she forgives you, you should try to get to know her better. She's pretty awesome."

Tony was silent. He looked up at Peter. "Can we talk about it?"

"We can," Peter told him. "But I'm not changing my mind." His voice softened a bit. "Even if I could go back to New York without being in danger, I wouldn't want to. Not yet – it's – I'm not ready," he said, not knowing how else to end his thoughts.

Tony must have heard the pain in his voice as clearly as his guardians, because he backed off uncharacteristically quickly. He nodded to Peter, then to Natasha and Steve. "Well, I guess we have our answer," he said. He looked up again. "Good luck, Peter. If you need anything, you know where to find me." Natasha looked at Steve, who hurried to follow after Tony to speak with him at more length. They needed to know they were still safe – that no matter his anger level – he wasn't going to give them up. Despite everything, they were still family. They hoped he felt the same.

She watched Steve go and then crossed her arms and looked up. Her expression showed none of the amusement Peter had been going for.

"Get down," she said sternly. She forced herself not to flinch as he dropped from the ceiling, his webbing pulling the vent closed after him. "Why do you insist on crawling up there?"

Peter shrugged. "I fit. It's kind of cool to check out the palace from up there. Besides, we couldn't hear you from the suite."

"Sometimes that's the point," Natasha told him. She surprised them both by hugging him. Then she let go as quickly and put an arm around his shoulder, leading him back to the suite. "And if you keep eavesdropping, I'm going to put traps in those vents."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh," Natasha said with a smirk. "I would. And you may be a genius, Peter, but I'm no idiot myself. And I've been studying these things much longer than you. You've been warned." His eyes widened and he considered his options. He felt staying away from the ductwork was probably in his immediate best interest. Natasha would never hurt him – but she could very easy bruise his ego and – or – make his life very uncomfortable.

Sharon appeared just after lunch, seeking Wanda. The young woman was reluctant, but did agree to go on a walk. "Yesterday was kind of tense," Sharon said. Wanda nodded, wondering if there was a polite way to call that an understatement. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but can we try?"

Wanda shrugged. "Tony thinks I am a weapon. He wants me locked up. What else is there to say?"

"You know you're not," Sharon responded. "We've had this discussion before. Don't let Tony of all people ruin the work you've done. His opinion is not one you need to worry about."

"You're not fond of him." Wanda didn't need to read the other woman's mind – her tone gave it away.

Sharon shrugged. "I knew him before he became Ironman. When he was still more of a party boy. And I didn't like much of what I knew. I put up with him for the good of everyone – and he does a lot of good in the world. But no, he's not my favorite person." She sighed. "And he doesn't have to be yours, either, Wanda. Just don't give him more time and attention than he deserves. Find a way to move beyond his ugly words last night. Because his opinion is not worth your pain."

They took a walk through the gardens, conversing both about the difficult issues and the lesser ones. On the return, they stopped in the library and Wanda gathered another armful of books.

Sharon walked back toward the suite with Wanda – and after the teen disappeared inside – she walked down the hall to the large living area to find Natasha standing at the window, staring into the rain-dampened jungle. "You okay?" She asked. She sat on one of the sofas, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beside her. Her expression was sympathetic, but otherwise very unreadable.

Natasha was silent for a long time. "Not really," she admitted. She sat down next to Sharon, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her eyes still on the windows.

"Want to talk about it?"

Natasha lips quirked up into a pointed smile. "No."

Sharon shrugged. "It's only polite to ask – even when you know the answer." She sighed. "Do me a favor, though? Talk to Laura – or Steve – someone."

"We'll see," Natasha answered. There was a long silence that stretched between them. "She's broken again," the redhead finally said sadly.

Sharon nodded. "In all fairness, she was never really completely fixed from the first seventeen-million times the world screwed her over. All things considered, the damage Tony caused last night isn't that much – and she's come back from much worse. After the sting wears off, I think she'll be headed back in the right direction."

"What should we do?"

"Exactly what you've been doing," Sharon assured her. "Keep reminding her that she's not a monster – treat her like the normal teenager she isn't. Listen." The other woman nodded and leaned back into the sofa.

Eventually, she turned to look at Sharon closely. "Not that we don't appreciate it – but what are you still doing here? I'm certain your vacation is over by now."

Sharon nodded. "T'Challa offered me asylum. Maria sent me a message through a back channel the day before I was set to leave – there's a warrant out for my arrest."

"For what?"

"Apparently Ross has proof that I provided the plane that Steve used to rescue them."

"What will you do?"

Sharon shrugged. "T'Challa offered me a job, too. On his intelligence council." Natasha watched her carefully and her smile returned, this time brightly.

"You like him!"

Sharon laughed, but she also blushed a dark pink, so Natasha knew she was right. "Good for you – he's a good man – and an interesting one. I'd imagine there will never be a dull moment."

"You think Aunt Peggy would approve?"

"Peggy would kick your ass for blushing over him. But otherwise, yes. She would have liked him. As much as she liked anyone." Natasha shook her head. "She was a tough one."

"She said that about you too. I take it you didn't get along?" They had known one another for quite a few years, but never well enough for such questions to be asked.

Natasha shrugged her shoulders. "We had a begrudging respect for one another. That seemed to serve us well. By the time I was brought in by Clint, she wasn't nearly as involved with day-to-day operations at SHIELD, so we didn't spend much time together. But she loved and trusted Fury – and he took me on a pet-project, so we met occasionally."

A silence fell over them for several minutes before Natasha spoke again. "She was an admirable woman." She paused. "With incredible taste in men." Sharon turned to look at her, eyes wide. She grinned.

"Are you admitting – out loud – that you're dating Steve?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I don't think you can call it dating when you've been living together for a year and raising two teenagers. But I am admitting to sleeping with him – yes."

Sharon laughed.

"What?"

"I'm not sure if you actually think you're only sleeping with him – or if you're using that as a cover for real feelings – but either way it's kind of adorable."

"I am not adorable," Natasha insisted, eyes narrowing at Sharon.

After the laughing and glaring had died down, Natasha looked at Sharon again. "New topic?" Sharon nodded. "If you're sticking around anyway – can you check in with Peter?"

"Officially?"

"I think so," Natasha told her. "I'm worried. Things have been crazy since this all started – he's not dealing with his aunt's death – he hasn't had the time or opportunity. I've tried to talk to him – but he's great at conversational evasion techniques. I think he's better at it than I am."

"That's a difficult feat," Sharon answered. She nodded. "I'll talk to him. Not today – I have a few things I need to get done. But tomorrow is fine."

Since Natasha had to talk – or order – Wanda into therapy, she felt it was not her turn to do the same with Peter. That was how Steve found himself mulling the topic while helping the teen work on his treehouse. Cooper and Clint had left to meet Laura, so they had the impressive structure to themselves. Peter was currently using simple circuitry to create lighting, alarms, and cooling systems. Steve knew to a certain extend what he was doing – but mostly he just passed Peter the requested pieces.

"So, Peter, Natasha and I were talking – " Peter looked up at him, concern furrowing his brow. "We've been on the run since you lost your aunt – and we think you should talk to someone."

"I'm good," Peter said. "Thanks though."

"Yeah," Steve said with a sigh. "It's not really an option, Peter. It's not a punishment – it's to help. And we don't know when we're going to be in a place that has someone qualified and trustworthy. Sharon is nice to talk to – you like her."

"It's different," Peter argued. "She's easy to talk to when you don't think she's studying you."

"It's really not that bad. Wanda enjoys the time she spends with Sharon."

Peter eyed Steve suspiciously. "Half the time she comes back to the suite and cries for the rest of the day," he reminded him.

"That could be from anything," Steve said, a weak attempt at a joke. "Seriously – Peter – you need to deal with trauma – it doesn't just go away on its own." His voice grows quieter as he continues. "I know from experience."

"Did you talk to someone, after you came out of the ice?"

"Eventually," Steve told him. "But I waited too long – suffered too much for it. I don't want that to happen to you. Just talk to her. Give it a shot."

Peter was as amiable as usual. He was clearly concerned about the plan and less than enthusiastic about it, but he agreed in the end to give it his best shot.

Wanda tried to read in her bedroom after her session with Sharon, but her brain refused to allow her any power over concentration. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Natasha called out that she was going for a run – leaving the suite empty.

Wanda waited a few moments and left her bedroom. She took the back stairs she'd been carefully surveying for weeks and exited the palace without being spotted. It was unlikely that anyone would stop her from leaving – but they might insist on joining her and all she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts, despite the heaviness of them. She took a deep breath as she approached the jungle. She knew logically that she could protect herself from anything that was in there – but it still seemed so foreboding. Her footfalls were almost silent as she followed the path to the treehouse. It was empty, so she climbed to the top platform and entered the fully-formed structure. There were still cosmetic things to be done, but structurally the sprawling space was finished. It had three levels, each with its own purpose, size, and construction. The top had a magnificent view from one wall made almost entirely of glass. Wanda fluffed one of the large pillows Peter had dragged up there and sat on it against the far wall, staring into the jungle.

She watched the jungle animals with interest as they moved around the nearby space, some eyeing her suspiciously. The quiet rhythms created by the flora, fauna, and wind – along with the warmth of the sun, lulled her into a sleepy state. She was almost ready to curl up and really nap when she realized she wasn't alone. Opening her eyes, she quickly threw off her bracelets, ready to protect herself. She huffed in frustration as she stopped a large rock from smashing Clint's head. He easily pushed it out of the way and it fell to the ground.

"You're getting better at that," he told her with an amused smile.

"Clint!" Wanda said in clear frustration, "Stop doing that! I could hurt you!"

"You won't," Clint said, shaking his head. He dropped to sit next to her on the well-sanded floor. Wanda's fingers traced the wood as she appreciated the work that had gone into creating it – it was as smooth as glass. "Haven't seen you lately," he commented.

"You were at dinner last night," she reminded him.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "But we don't usually get to talk. The kids and Laura steal your attention. It's as bad as it is with Natasha." He gave a playful sigh. "I need to find a friend who doesn't like my wife and kids better."

Wanda laughed softly. "I don't like them better," she argued in amusement, "the are just difficult to refuse. Your children are adorable. And Laura is so kind."

Clint nodded; he was aware.

"How are you hanging in?"

Wanda shrugged. "I am," she answered. "I don't know how," she said with a small smile. "Taking one hour at a time, is what Sharon suggests when it gets hard. Then I can work my way up to one day at a time."

Clint nodded. "A good suggestion." He cleared his throat. "I'm not gonna get all mushy – I know you won't appreciate that. But you know Tony was wrong, don't you?"

Wanda shrugged and nodded. "Sometimes," she answered, smiling apologetically. "Sometimes I know he's wrong. Sometimes I worry he's right."

"He not," Clint told her solemnly. She nodded in thanks.

"I try to remember that."

"One day at a time," he said. They sat in silence for a little longer. Then Clint pulled out his bow and tried to teach Wanda – for the fourth time – how to use it. She laughed every time her arrows ended up far, far, from the mark.

"You know I can just move these with my mind," she told him.

"It's still a useful skill," Clint told her. "You never know when an arrow might come in handy." She laughed but continued trying until she actually hit a few of the marks. Her shoulders felt much lighter as they walked back to the palace, discussing Lila's plan to host a pajama dance party as soon as Wanda felt up to it. The teen had no intention of disappointing the child – she just needed another day or two of quiet before she trusted herself to be cheerful enough around the children.

"You're a good person, Wanda," Clint told her sincerely as they arrived in the gardens. "Don't let anyone cause you to question that. You are a good person." She smiled at him in gratitude and allowed him to hug her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

 

Thank you for reading!  Please take a moment to comment or review - I would love to know what you think!


	12. Walking Through The Storm

Chapter 12 – Walking Through the Storm

After a day that felt as lengthy as five, Natasha took a long bubble bath and prepared for bed. By the time she was ready to crawl under the covers, Steve was there, already in his pajamas and reading a book. She climbed in on her side and turned out her light – she did not have the energy to read. She curled onto her side facing him and Steve looked down at her, smiling softly. "Tired?"

"So tired," she responded. "Are you sure this day was only 18 hours? It felt so much longer."

"That's because all you did was run around," Steve told her. "You can say no when someone asks you to do something." She had gone on a run and sparred with Sam, colored with Lila, gone on a walk to the treehouse with Cooper, Laura, Nate, and Peter. That was in addition to the time she'd spent speaking with Wanda and Sharon.

She sighed. "This isn't going to last for long," she reminded him. "When we leave here – I don't know when I'll see Clint, Laura, the kids. We don't know."

"No," he said, reaching a hand down to grasp one of hers. "I guess we don't."

"That didn't used to matter," she said, almost in a whisper. "Feelings make things messier."

"And better," Steve added, raising her hand to his lips to kiss it.

"And better," she agreed with a smile. He gave her hand back and she placed it on his thigh. "How much longer are you going to read?"

"Would you like my attention elsewhere?" He asked.

She batted her eyelashes at him playfully but then shook her head. "Only for snuggling. I'm too tired for anything else."

He smiled as he set his book aside and turned out the light. He scooted further under the covers and settled on his right side, pulling her against him and settling into an embrace. "If you tell anyone I asked to snuggle, I will have to kill you."

He laughed. "Your secret is safe with me. Go to sleep, Natasha."

Peter loved to talk, so Sharon was surprised when he was suddenly silent in her presence when she met with him a day later. He had talked to her plenty before – but now that she was officially seeing him as a client, he was mum. Steve had delivered the teen to Sharon's office – a room in her suite that had been converted into a library-type area. She considered walking around the grounds with him as she did with Wanda – but while Wanda was fully capable of a more rambling pace, Peter couldn't seem to accomplish anything slower than a brisk jog. Even if Sharon could keep up the entire time, she didn't think conversation would be concurrently possible.

She finally broke the long silence with a question she hoped was innocuous enough. "How do you like it in Wakanda?"

"Oh, it's great," Peter said. "Really cool. T'Challa is awesome – and he really made us feel welcome. And his science and technology is top-notch. I'm not allowed in the labs by myself, but every week we've been here, he's let me spend at least part of a day with one of his scientists."

Sharon nodded. "You like science?" She asked with a smile, despite knowing this detail already. Peter nodded enthusiastically. "What are you studying right now?"

"Physics," he answered. "But I've also been reading research that's being done here on flexible electronics – the possibilities for real world implications are really awesome." Sharon nodded and waited for more information – but it didn't come. Peter, like most people, was uncomfortable with silence and he did try to fill it – but mostly with banal discussions of scientific theories.

"Peter?" He stopped talking about what he'd read recently about string theory and instead looked at her. "Why do you think Steve and Natasha wanted you to come speak with me?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine," he assured her. "I mean – no offense at all – but I don't think this is worth your time. I'm good. Wanda probably needs your attention way more – and I'm fine."

Sharon bit back a smile and looked at him with empathy. "Peter – you're not a waste of my time – therapy or not. I promise, I am not neglecting Wanda to spent time with you. And usually when someone assures me they're fine three times in less than thirty seconds, it indicates they're not."

His face flushed up to his ears. "What came up there?" She asked softly.

Peter shook his head. "I don't really want to talk about it."

She nodded empathetically. "I know. But can we try?"

He shrugged. "I spend a lot of energy trying not to think about it." She nodded, waiting for him to continue. "And then I feel guilty for not thinking about her."

When several minutes passed and he didn't continue, Sharon commented. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. Everyone copes in different ways. Trying not to think about your aunt doesn't mean you don't love her. She's just attached to emotions that are difficult to handle right now."

"I still feel guilty."

"Why?"

Peter looked pained. "May – she died. And I'm still here – and every time I laugh or smile, or have a good time, I think about the fact that she isn't here – and how can I be happy when she isn't here?"

"She wouldn't have wanted you to be sad all the time, would she?"

"No," Peter admitted. "But I don't know how not to be."

After the session with Sharon, Peter felt raw and lost. He didn't want to talk about these things – and this was why. Pretending to be fine worked quite well for him – until it didn't. He went back to the suite, knowing that the others were still out. It gave him time to get to his bedroom and close the door to the rest of the world. He curled up under the covers and stared at the far wall, his brain too unfocused to think about anything specific. But that didn't stop him from feeling the heavy sadness that had settled into his heart and the pit of his stomach. Somehow, he fell asleep.

Natasha was the first to return to the suite. She was surprised to find Peter in bed in the middle of the day – enough so that she called Sharon.

"Hey, Natasha," she said, picking up the phone on the second ring.

"Hey," the woman answered. She paced her bedroom – door closed – while she spoke. "Can you tell me why Peter is in bed?"

Sharon sighed. "It was a tough session," she answered. "You know that he's in a lot more pain than he lets on. He jokes and smiles and pretends to be fine – until he convinces everyone that he is. It's a good short-term defense mechanism – but a bad way to recover from trauma."

Natasha sighed. She knew Sharon was right. She may not have had a degree in it, but she manipulated, observed, and played with people enough over her lifetime to know quite a bit about psychology. "Anything else you can tell me?"

"You know there's not," Sharon said apologetically. "I wouldn't force him to talk anymore today - he was spent by the time I walked him back." Natasha hung up the phone and went back into the little kitchenette to make herself a cup of tea while she waited for him to wake.

When Peter finally woke, it was dark. His blinds had been pulled – but he could tell that the sun had gone down too. He sat up in bed and flipped on the lamp beside him. He rubbed his eyes and then looked at his watch – he had been sleeping for several hours. It was too much to hope for that he hadn't been discovered. The drawn curtains and the quilt that had been laid over him suggested he'd been found.

If he hid for too long, they would come to find him – and he knew he needed to do things on his terms. He washed his face and tried to straighten his hair. Content that the tears he'd cried that afternoon weren't evident now, he opened his bedroom door and braved the common room. Natasha and Steve sat on opposite ends of one of the sofas, she reading a book written in some Cyrillic alphabet, and he paging through a file that looked particularly official.

Peter walked over to the main table in the room and poured himself a glass of water from the decanter. It was still cold, so he knew he hadn't missed dinner by too much time. He took a long drink and refilled the glass before going back to the living room area and sitting on another sofa.

"You missed dinner," Natasha informed him. "Do you want me to order something for you from the kitchens?" She told him what they'd had – and asked if he wanted that or something else. The kitchen staff was incredibly flexible – and were good natured about having two teenagers and several children who were occasionally picky about food.

Peter shook his head. "I'm not really hungry."

Steve set his file aside and exchanged looks with Natasha. "That's not like you," he observed.

"It happens," Peter responded. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"You don't have to," Natasha assured him. "But you should eat something – you already slept through lunch. What about peanut butter toast?"

Peter nodded. When he'd told T'Challa about the trouble they'd had finding it in Europe, the king had flown in a crate of it from the US – and had thereby purchased the adoration of at least Cooper and Peter. While waiting for the food, Peter sprawled on one of the empty sofas and stared at the ceiling. "Where's Wanda?"

"At the gym with Sam," Steve told him. "She should be back soon. Her interest in training has lessened since the Avengers went defunct."

"You've noticed, have you?" Natasha asked, amused smile as she handed him a mug of tea and sat down with her own. Wanda had never complained about training – even though she started training so quickly after Pietro had died – and while she was still medically considered malnourished. But since the Raft, she had shown absolutely no interest in anything regarding training. She would go for a run when someone asked, but she refused to spar and used her powers intermittently – at best.

Steve was certain she would rebound and start training again – Natasha wasn't so sure. Going into hiding hadn't been a walk in the park, but it given them each a part to play in a life that was almost normal. Wanda had, despite her objections, enjoyed school. She had made friends and latched on to music and literature. Natasha was almost positive that if Wanda could hang up her avenging and have whatever amounted to a normal life, she would.

A server brought Peter's dinner and the teen obediently ate the peanut butter toast, picking also at the fruit Natasha had ordered. When he finished, he placed his empty plate on the table and sat back down on the sofa. Steve and Natasha both eventually looked up to see he was staring.

Natasha set her book aside again. "Peter?" She asked. She leaned forward to catch his gaze and he shook his head, moving from staring to looking confused. Steve focused his attention on the boy as well.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about his words. His eyes were red around the edges; he was fighting tears. Finally, she spoke. "I don't want to talk to Sharon again. I mean," he said, his expression immediately contrite, "it's nothing against her – she's really nice. But I don't want to do it again. I can't talk about that stuff and be okay at the same time."

Both Steve and Natasha understood his words – both knew the pain of trying to go on when your heart – or your soul – was left in shredded pieces. But they also knew how much harder waiting made everything.

"Peter," Natasha said softly. "That's the point. If you can't talk about what happened without falling apart – you're not okay. No matter how much you pretend to be."

"Pretending works," he said, begging them to agree with him and let it go.

"Not forever," Steve answered. "Eventually, it makes things worse. When I came out of the ice, I didn't talk to anyone very much. I worked for SHIELD, ruined several punching bags every night, and went to bed to get up and do the same thing the next morning. I didn't feel like me again until I started expressing the grief I was feeling – I had lost all of my friends – I'd lost my chance at growing old with the woman I loved. It was a lot to keep bottled up inside. And it wasn't doing me any good in there."

"I can't do it," Peter said, looking so small and afraid. "I—" his voice broke. "I can't think about May. It was my fault she died – if I just went with them – if she didn't try to protect me – "

"She did exactly what she wanted to do," Natasha told him. "She loved you – and she protected you so that you could go on to have a good life. Do you think she would want you beating yourself up over something that is not your fault?"

Peter shook his head, but his eyes were downcast, his head in his hands. Tears streamed as he attempted to roughly rub them away with trembling fingers. "This is stupid," he said angrily. "I'm not talking about it anymore." He ran into his bedroom and slammed the door closed before angrily throwing himself on the bed.

Natasha looked at Steve, who shared her expression of concern. She picked up her phone and called Sharon, explaining what had happened. The blonde was in their suite within minutes. She left the bag she carried on the table and walked to his door, knocking. "Peter, it's Sharon. Can I come in?"

There was a mumbled response that she was certain was not a positive, but she took it as one anyway. She walked into the room and shut the door behind her. She dragged the desk chair over and perched on it, leaning toward Peter, who had his face hidden in the pillows on his bed.

"Hey," she said calmly. "I thought you were okay when we finished talking. Otherwise I wouldn't have left."

By the time Sharon left two hours later, Peter was calmer – but he still insisted that he was done talking about himself and Aunt May. They all avoided speaking about it for the rest of the week – and although he was quieter than usual, he slowly returned to his normal nature. At least, that was what he projected to the world. Inside, he was kind of sure he was dying.

The chest pains started the day after his meeting with Sharon – and at first, he thought he had just overdone it; he had done more training than usual, trying to keep his mind busy. But within the next few days, he realized that it wasn't going away. Day, night, alone or with others – none of it mattered. Out of nowhere, he felt like his chest was restricting and his ability to breathe was in real danger.

He was able to keep it quiet for several days. It happened in one of the science labs and he was able to calm himself down and begin his trek to their suite. When the pain hit his chest again, Peter stumbled toward the suite. He wanted to get to his room and lay down – he didn't need anyone seeing that he was in distress. Luck was not on his side – he ran into Natasha and Laura just before he reached his destination. Both women looked worried. Laura reached over and put the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't look good," she told him.

"I'm fine," Peter croaked.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "What's going on?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"I'm going to find the kids – let me know if you need anything," Laura said, patting Natasha on the arm before leaving them alone. The redhead took Peter's arm and walked him back to the suite.

"You're sweating and you're not a normal color," Natasha told him. "So I know you're not fine. What hurts?"

"My chest," Peter admitted finally, the heel of his hand pressing against his heart as he sank down on the sofa in a supine position. He pulled a throw pillow over his face. Natasha observed that his breathing was heavy and decided not to chance anything. She called T'Challa, who appeared within minutes with his personal doctor in tow.

"Thank you for coming," Natasha said in Wakandan – it was one of quite a few phrases she'd picked up in her weeks there.

Peter lifted the pillow and looked up before groaning. "I'm fine," he said irritably.

"I'd appreciate that assessment a lot more coming from a doctor," Natasha informed him.

"I promise, I don't bite," the doctor said in perfect English. Peter groaned, but he obediently followed the doctor into his room and answered the questions that were asked. When he finished with a cursory exam, he walked with Peter back into the living area – where Steve was now waiting with Natasha.

Steve shook the man's hand and introduced himself. The doctor invited them to sit and took one of the chairs himself. Peter sat on the sofa between his guardians, slumped miserably with his arms crossed. "The symptoms Peter is exhibiting point to anxiety or panic attacks," the doctor explained. "It sounds as though several have been severe enough to cause trouble breathing – that is a situation where I would suggest medication – at least until they are under control."

Peter remained stoic and did not respond. "What do you recommend?" Natasha asked.

"Alprazolam is usually what I try first with patients who suffer from panic attacks," the doctor responded.

"What are the side effects?" Steve asked, his expression grim. He had tried drugs for PTSD when he'd first come out of the ice – he was not fond of those memories.

The doctor nodded. "It depends on the person. Some have no side effects. Others suffer from digestive issues – loss of appetite – others from an increase in appetite or fatigue. Shakiness and forgetfulness are also common."

"Can I think about it?" Peter asked. "Maybe it will go away on its own?"

"Of course," the doctor answered. "There are also natural remedies you can try – chamomile tea, meditation, valerian. Think about it – if you want to try the medication, call my office – I will have them sent up. If you have any other problems, call me."

Peter nodded.

"Ice," the doctor said as he stood to go. They all looked at him in oddly.

"Ice helps the panic attacks to end sooner," he told them. "Or very cold water – if ice is unavailable."

"Thank you," Steve said, standing to walk the doctor to the door. He shook his hand and let him out, closing the door behind him. When he turned back, his eyes met Peter's – and the younger man bent over at the waist, hiding his tears in his arms. Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached out carefully and rubbed his heaving back, saying nothing. Steve sat back down next to Peter – and they were all quiet, save for Peter's almost silent sobs.

After two more days of suffering from panic attacks, Peter sought out his guardians. It was late – and they were in bed – reading. Natasha looked up first, her eyes clearly concerned as she took in his chalky complexion. She set her book aside and Steve did the same.

"Everything okay?" Natasha finally asked, after it was clear that Peter wasn't going to be the first to speak. The young boy shook his head, his expression crumpling. Steve stood and hugged him, letting him cry. Within a few minutes, Peter was sitting between the two of them, his tears drying.

"I think I have to try something," he said finally. "I don't want to – but I don't know what else to do."

"You can try what the doctor suggested – and if the side effects are too much, we try something else," Natasha assured him. They spent a good bit of the rest of the night assuring him that he was going to be fine – and that asking for help was the best thing he could possibly do.

Peter was sick to his stomach when he took the first anti-anxiety drug the next morning, but he swallowed it quickly and moved on with his day – trying his best to put a brave, cheerful face forward.

Wanda sat in the garden, using her powers to bring lilies to the surface. It wasn't quite time for them, but she needed to see something beautiful – and she had felt them approaching the surface as she'd been roaming the garden that morning. She heard a small gasp behind her and whirled around to find Cassie and Lila watching, enamored. Wanda snatched her bracelets up from the cold earth and slipped them back onto her wrists, the usual feeling of stifling heaviness settling over her.

Lila plopped down next to her, ignoring all pretexts at personal space, and reached for one of the flowers. "So pretty," she told Wanda. "Can you do another one?"

"No," Wanda responded. "No, I should not have done that one. Nature would have brought her up in time."

"Please?" Cassie asked, sitting next to Lila and staring at the flower. "Just one more?" Wanda knew she shouldn't – she was afraid to use her magic on her own – let alone with two small children nearby. But it wasn't difficult magic. She pressed her lips together and nodded after both girls turned large, pleading eyes on her. She raised three more flowers from the ground, creating a small gathering.

"What do we have here?" A familiar voice asked, teasing. Wanda jumped, eyes wide in alarm as she saw Laura and Natasha walking up the path. She slid her bracelets back on. Standing, she brushed the earth from her skirt.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I shouldn't have – I was only – "

"Mommy, look how pretty," Lila said, not realizing that Wanda was horrified at having been caught practicing magic near the children. Laura bent down and brushed her finger tips along one of the petals.

"They're perfect," she agreed. "Thank you for sharing them, Wanda," she said, standing to look the young woman directly in the eye. Her expression was soft, her voice empathetic. The Bartons were not afraid of Wanda – and they understood that she needed to know that there were people who weren't. She cupped Wanda's jaw gently, lifting her eyes. "The flowers are beautiful. You made the girls' day – thank you."

She took Lila's hand and then Cassie's. "Come on, girls. Let's go see what we're having for supper." As they moved away, Natasha stepped off the path to stand next to Wanda, taking one hand in both of her own.

Natasha had seen the joy in her, watching the girls' pleasure over the flowers. And she'd seen it dashed when fear had overtaken her. She carefully began slipping a bracelet from Wanda's hand. The younger woman clenched her fist, stopping her.

"It is not safe."

"It is," Natasha argued. But she left the bracelets alone. She paused and sat on the ground, drawing Wanda down with her. "When you decided to leave the complex with Clint, why did you do it?" Wanda looked off toward the jungle, saying nothing. "Wanda, what did you tell Vision?"

Wanda blinked back tears. "I can only control my own fear."

"How's that going?" Natasha asked softly.

Wanda shook her head, tears breaking to the surface and spilling onto her cheeks. Natasha carefully removed the young woman's bracelets and let them fall to the ground. Wanda didn't argue – she was too busy falling into the spy's lap, sobbing. Natasha held her and didn't move as large vines began winding up from the ground, encasing them in a little shelter of sorts.

The crying only stopped when she fell asleep, exhausted from the emotions and the magic. Natasha studied the vines – beautiful, thick vines with wide, vibrant red flowers. They arched above them and met, climbing back down to the ground on the opposite side. It created a little cave. Natasha sat back and tried to relax. She could get out of it if she really wanted to – but disturbing Wanda wasn't worth it.

A little while later, the young woman woke startled, tears starting immediately and a panicked expression taking over her face. "It's okay," Natasha assured her. "Relax. It's okay. I'm fine – you're fine."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Natasha told her. "Calm down, milachka." Wanda trembled but followed directions from Natasha, breathing deeply. She tried several times to reach for her bracelets but Natasha kept them away, wanting her to see that she was not a threat without them. They were a tool to make things easier, not a way to control her. After she was calm, Wanda was able to make the vines recede into the ground. She collapsed again in exhaustion.

Natasha pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and sent a text. Within minutes, Steve lifted a completely drained Wanda into his arms and carried her through the back hallways and up the stairs to her bedroom. "We're both covered in dirt," Natasha reminded him, so he lay her on a padded bench in her bathroom instead of placing her on the pristine bed. The maid who had been assigned to their suite beat Natasha to it and brought a set of clean pajamas for both women. Natasha thanked her and told Steve to wait in the bedroom before she closed the door. The maid offered to help but Natasha politely refused and closed herself in the bathroom with Wanda.

Wanda didn't help much in the process of showering, but she also didn't fight, so they were both clean, dry, and redressed within half an hour. Steve was still on hand and carried Wanda to her bed and the maid brought in a tray of fragrant tea.

"Is Wanda okay?" Peter asked later that day, trying to look beyond Natasha and into the room.

"She will be," Natasha responded, reaching over to smooth back a piece of his hair that continually wanted to stand up straight. "She isn't up for visitors right now – but soon. Go play until then."

"I don't play," Peter said, red rising to his ears. Natasha smirked.

"Okay, go solve differential equations then – just do it elsewhere until dinner time. Maybe see if Cooper's free." Peter didn't want to be seen as someone young enough to play, but Natasha saw a marked difference in him since he'd been around other kids – he was a kid – and he needed to be free of the worries and anxieties that plagued the rest of them. Especially now that he was suffering from anxiety attacks.

"I don't play," Peter repeated. Natasha smiled again.

"I know, Pete. Just go have a little bit of fun for the rest of us, okay?" He smiled, nodded, and dashed off.

The next week was quiet – most of their friends gave them space. Wanda and Peter both settled down a bit, but were quieter than usual. Wanda had been avoiding alone time with the little girls, so Natasha was filling in for her one day. She spent the morning with the two girls – and after Cassie was left with her dad, Lila tugged on her Aunts pant leg. Natasha looked down at her and saw that she had something on her young mind.

"What's up, kiddo?"

"Daddy said the world is more dangerous for girls. Why?"

Natasha studied Lila. "Why don't you ask your dad?"

"I did. He told me I'd understand when I was older. But if it's more dangerous for me, shouldn't I understand now?" Natasha raised an eyebrow; the kid was too smart for her own good.

The trained assassin and spy sighed. She knew that somehow, she was going to get herself into trouble with this conversation. She sat down on the stairs and Lila sat next to her, looking up at her with big, blue eyes that she'd gotten from Clint. "Some people in the world think that men are better and stronger than women, so they don't treat them nicely. And that makes it more dangerous. In America, you and your mom, me, Wanda, we can all go out and do what we want as long as we don't break any laws. We can go to school, we can work, we can play and learn. In other parts of the world, girls aren't allowed to leave their houses without men. Imagine, if your mom couldn't go out to the grocery store without your dad."

Lila crinkled her nose. "That's silly."

Natasha nodded. "It is. And a large part of the world has figured that out – and has started to do better."

"So someday it will be safe to be a woman anywhere?"

"I hope so," Natasha said.

"Me too." She leaned her head on Natasha and was silent for several seconds. Then she sat up and looked her in the eye again. "What does raped mean?" She squeaked in surprise when the older woman's eyes went wide and she was scooped forcefully into her lap. Natasha's eyes met Lila's and were as serious as the child had ever seen them.

"Where did you hear that word?" She asked.

"Daddy told Mommy it happened to Wanda and they both cried. I was supposed to be sleeping," she admitted in a whisper. Natasha said nothing and hugged her, keeping her close for several minutes.

"It's a very bad thing," she finally said, her voice rough and thick. "Used to hurt someone."

"Is Wanda hurt?"

"She was," Natasha admitted with a sad expression. "But she's getting better."

"Is that why she's so sad?"

"One of the reasons."

"Is that why Uncle Tony is so mad at her?"

"No," she responded quickly. "No – what happened to her was not Wanda's fault. Not at all. Tony is just angry because he's confused. We'll fix it soon." She kissed Lila's forehead and then pulled away to look her in the eye again. "Do me a favor, sweet pea. This is something very private, okay? We don't talk about it unless Wanda starts the conversation. We don't talk to other people about it at all – okay?" Lila nodded. "If you have questions, you can ask me, or your mom or dad – but no one else. Do you understand?" The little girl was solemn and she agreed. Natasha spoke to her quietly for another minute or two and then sent her to find her parents. Once she was gone, Natasha walked up the stairs to the next floor, where another child – older but still vulnerable – sat silently on the staircase.

"What did you hear?" Natasha asked.

"She knows," Wanda said softly, her blue-green eyes staring at nothing.

"She doesn't understand."

"I hope she never does. But she will. Too soon."

"That's usually the case," Natasha agreed sadly. She sat next to Wanda and they were silent for a long time.

Eventually, Wanda removed her bracelets and placed them in her lap. Scarlet swirls of magic surrounded them in a gentle bubble. From the change in her senses, Natasha realized it was sound proof. It gave the younger woman the courage to speak. "At first, I didn't think anything like that would happen," she said slowly. "The soldiers were so excited to have Avengers. They taunted everyone – Clint the most – calling him an old man and saying that he should have stayed in retirement." She licked her lips and then swallowed before letting out a deep breath. "They threw those prison uniforms to the others, but three of them came into my cell. I tried to fight but they had already drugged me – it took too much energy. I let them take my clothing. I should have fought harder. They put the straight jacket and electric collar on me – and shocked me twice, just to see what would happen. I didn't scream – but I lost control of – "

She gestured to the area below her skirt and Natasha nodded slightly, her lips pinched into an angry line. "They were disgusted and started calling me names. Sam, Scott, and Clint – they could hear them. They yelled at them – told them to leave me alone. But it wasn't enough. They used a hose to clean me – and then the one in charge started fondling what was not covered. I tried not to move – I didn't want them to enjoy it. It lasted for so long – I thought it would never stop. Sam and Clint and even Scott – yelled the whole time – Clint broke his hand pounding on his cell wall. But still they didn't stop. All three of them raped me – in every way I ever feared." She stared off into the distance, her hands shaking dangerously along with her voice.

"I never chose – " She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Von Strucker did it too. Not as violent, but just as unwanted. Before that – I was a child." Her eyes filled with tears and she looked so distraught, it sent pangs of pain through Natasha. "I have had far too much sex for someone who has never chosen to do so."

"There is a big difference between having sex – and what happened to you," Natasha told her softly, reaching over to gently but firmly clutch her hand.

Wanda shook her head. "The last soldier who took me – he said I was so disgusting – and I knew he was right. I can't stop feeling that he was right. When I think about it too much – " Her voice broke and she stopped, her breathing heavy as she hunched over her knees.

Natasha shifted and squatted down in front of her, forcing their eyes to meet. "You are not disgusting. You are beautiful, intelligent, and so strong. What happened – in the raft and in the lab – that is the fault of the men who attacked you." she told Wanda. "You didn't deserve any of it. You didn't ask for it." She took the woman's hands, trying to gain her wandering gaze. When she did, she spoke again. "No matter what they did, you are stronger than they are."

"It didn't feel that way," Wanda said shakily. "They did what they wanted – and I could do nothing. I can still see them when I close my eyes."

"And where are they now?" Natasha asked.

"Dead," Wanda said stonily.

"And you are very much alive. And so strong. And eventually, those men's legacy will be nothing but dust. And you – you will have made a difference in this world, just by being you. They tried, but they did not break you, milachka." Natasha sat back down next to Wanda and drew the younger woman into her arms.

* * *

I apologize for the major delay.  I am still working on this story - I have just hit a few road blocks.  If you are still reading, please do drop a line and let me know what you think.  Thanks so much!


	13. At the Speed of Life

So, I'm a terrible person who has let writer's block keep this story on ice for almost a year. I'm trying to finish it – I know it will make little to no sense once Infinity War comes out – and I want to get this tied up before new continuity appears in my head. I'm sorry for the delay – and I hope some of you are still reading this.

* * *

 

Chapter 13 – At the speed of Life

Later that night, Natasha caught up with Clint in one of the training rooms. Her hair was uncovered and when another woman glared at her, Natasha simply glared angrily back, causing the woman to turn and run. "You look like you're in a fun mood," Clint said, removing an arrow from his quiver. He was using Wakandan technology to practice his target shooting. Once he hit the button, random virtual assailants would pop up all over the place – some fast, some slow – some larger, others not. But for now, his stance was relaxed – he was waiting to hear what his friend needed.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" She hissed.

"You're gonna have to be more specific, Nat. There are things I don't tell you. I'm a spy. Retired or not, keeping secrets is kind of my job. Yours too."

"You should have told me what they did to Wanda." Granted, she had seen the grainy video. But hearing about it in Wanda's own words had shaken her to the core.

"Why? Were you gonna kill 'em again?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You killed them?"

"No," Clint responded with a grimace. He had wanted to. "I held them down while she did. She was too weak to use her powers – but a knife works pretty well when the target is incapacitated."

"And Steve?"

Clint shrugged. "He was the one who pulled her out of that cell. He didn't need an explanation for why those bastards needed to die." Her shoulders slumped as she slid down against the wall. "I know how you feel," he told her. "Trust me, my newest batch of nightmares aren't a result of being locked in a cage for a few days. I can't stop hearing what they did not her – listening to Scott and Sam yell. She never screamed, not once. But there was plenty else to hear." He let several arrows fly at once, hitting different targets. Natasha hadn't realized that he'd hit the button. "Lila will be her age someday. And it's not as far off as I'd like it to be." His face, normally calm, was contorted in rage as he continued to hit targets. She was silent as he spent the next ten minutes hitting targets and killing imaginary foes, his features calming with each hit.

"I supported the accords."

"The accords didn't terrorize Wanda. Those men did. That's not on you."

After sparing with Clint, she still had too much pent up energy. Sam wouldn't go near her after seeing her in action with her best friend. Steve was MIA, so she spent the next few hours beating up T'Calla's punching bags.

"Natasha," Wanda chided as the older woman slipped into her room later that night and crawled into bed next to her. "Please, don't treat me like I'm going to break."

"I know you're not," Natasha answered. "But I need this. Can I have a few days to get used to this? To just know that you're safe?" Wanda said nothing but relaxed against the infamous assassin. She fell asleep while the older woman stroked her hair, humming something familiar.

"We need to talk," Natasha told her the next morning, over breakfast. Wanda looked around the room, which was currently empty. Peter had gone early to one of the labs to observe an experiment that he, Shuri, and T'Challa had been talking about for days. Steve had gone for his run. She tilted her head at Natasha, indicating that she should go ahead. "I got my hands on the surveillance videos from the raft." Wanda sat her spoon on the table, her appetite immediately vanishing.

"How much did you see?" Wanda asked, her voice hard and tight.

"Enough to know that we have proof of the secretary of state breaking not only American laws, but the Geneva Convention."

Wanda closed her eyes. "So the whole world gets to see." Her hands shook until she fisted them tightly and dropped them to her lap.

"Not unless you make that choice," Natasha told her. "I can't change that I've seen the videos. But it's your choice if anyone else does."

"If I let you use them, will it mean we can stop running and hiding?"

"It's never a guarantee," Natasha told her. "We can try to get them into uncorrupted courtrooms in front of uncorrupted judges, but there is a possibility that Ross's connections go deep enough to get out of even water this hot."

"I need to think about it," Wanda told her.

"Take whatever time you need." She paused to catch Wanda's gaze. "No matter what you decide, we'll support you."

"Did I do something to upset you?" Steve asked later that day, catching up to Natasha on her run. She found it extremely annoying to run in a hijab, but she also respected T'Challa enough to not put him in a difficult position. So she wore it when she went for her run, since that took place both on and off his palace grounds.

"No," she answered. "Why?"

"We haven't really slept apart under the same roof since the accords – "

"I was with Wanda."

"Is she okay?"

"She's as fine as can be expected. I don't know if I am."

"Nat, what's going on?"

Natasha sighed. "She told me some of what happened in the prison – I had seen it – but hearing her describe it – it was awful. I just needed to be there. I know it's not rational, but I just needed to know she was safe right now. It annoyed her too, don't worry."

"I'm not annoyed," Steve responded. "I'm glad that Wanda has you. She needs women she can trust." They ran in silence for several more minutes.

So, any thoughts on our next stop?" He asked, smiling. "I think we should definitely go someplace where you don't have to wear that thing," he said, nodding to the hijab. "It's just not you." She smirked. Realizing that they'd just crossed back onto the palace grounds, she whipped it off, revealing her trademark red locks. In a move of unusual impractical vanity on her part, she had stripped her hair of dye when they'd arrived in Wakanda. Wanda had maintained the light, airy blonde while Steve and Peter had kept their dark locks. But Natasha had gone red as soon as it was possible. She knew she would have to dye it again before leaving. As silly as she knew it was, she felt like herself with the red locks.

Steve grinned and slowed his run, turning around to whisk her into his arms and kiss her. He blushed to his ears when they heard a whoop behind them. Clint, Laura, and the kids were taking a walk through the gardens. "Shut up," Natasha told her old friend, taking Steve's hand and dragging him toward the palace and their room.

Later that afternoon, Wanda came across Peter, who was staring into space in the living room. "Are you alright?" she asked, as she sat down on the opposite end of the sofa he was occupying. He looked up at her, clearly surprised by her presence.

"Yeah," he said, offering her an unconvincing smile. "I'm just – I'm trying to read this," he said, motioning to the stack of papers in his lap. "Shuri is doing some really cool research – and she's willing to let me help – but I've got to catch up on some of the basics of their technology here."

"You're spending quite a lot of time with Shuri," Wanda said in a teasing tone.

Peter blushed. "She's cool," he said. "You know, she's really brilliant. And she's, like sixteen and in charge of all the Black Panther technology. It's impressive."

"She's also very pretty," Wanda offered, causing Peter to blush deeper, his ears evening turning pink. "And quite funny."

"I don't know that we really have time for that," Peter reminded her. "We don't know how long we're staying."

"Life is short," Wanda said, patting his knee. "Make a move."

She meant it as a light bit of encouragement, but she paused when Peter's expression fell. "Peter, I was teasing. You do whatever you're comfortable doing. Shuri is a good friend – and if that's enough for you, that's fine."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I know. I – um. It's not that I'm not interested, you know? It's just – the anxiety is kicking in at really inconvenient times. Like, most of the time, it's cool and I can breathe."

"Essential life function. Check." Peter nodded.

"But then, sometimes, if I try to talk to Shuri about anything other than science, I start to have a panic attack. And that's – not exactly the impression I want to make."

Wanda nodded. She knew he was struggling with anxiety – but really hadn't realized it had infiltrated so many parts of his day. "Have you spoken to Sharon?"

He shook his head. "No. No. I'm not going to do that anymore," he told her. "It unloads all sorts of stuff that I'd rather not think about."

Wanda shifted, remaining silent until he reluctantly looked at her. "I'm pretty sure you're thinking about it anyway. I would imagine that's what causes the anxiety."

"What do you know about it?" Peter grumbled.

"Seriously?" She asked, pushing into his brain just enough to show him pictures of her parents, Pietro, and Lagos.

"Sorry," he said softly. "That was thoughtless. I know you're trying to help – but I just really don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine," Wanda assured him. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." She stood and walked towards the door, book in hand.

"Wanda?" She turned and smiled at him. "Thank you." She smiled and nodded before continuing on her way. Peter settled back in, trying to focus on his reading.

Two days later, Natasha and Steve were busy working on different SHIELD files when he cleared his throat. She looked up briefly and then down again when he didn't immediately start speaking. "Marry me."

Natasha looked up so quickly that, had she been a normal person, she would have caused neck damage. Her green eyes searched his blue ones for sincerity. "Don't be silly," she said, keeping herself as calm as possible.

"I'm not being silly," Steve said, standing to go back down on one knee next to her chair.

"Steve – don't do this," she said softly.

"Too late."

"Don't," she whispered. "Steve – "

He looked up at her sincerely, his blue eyes filled with almost more love than she could bear. "Natasha. Stop thinking about the mission for one minute. Think about yourself. I know it's not your best skill – but try. I love you. I have loved you for about as long as I've known you. We've been friends – we've been partners. I want more. I want you. For now; forever. Natasha Romanov, marry me. Be my best friend. Be my partner. No matter what comes next." He held out a ring – a perfect ring. It was simple but beautiful – a dark ruby instead of a traditional diamond.

She stared at him. Finally, she spoke. "There are a million reasons not to do this," she whispered. His face didn't fall completely, but she saw it was going to. She smiled at him gently. "But I am tired of living for the mission. And I love you more than I thought possible. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," she repeated, allowing him to place the ring on her finger. They kissed and embraced, reveling in a moment neither of them had even considered possible before that year.

Steve's timing hadn't been perfect for keeping their new engagement a secret – Wanda and Peter walked in, Lila, Cassie, and Cooper in tow, while Steve was still on one knee. "Uncle Steve, why are you on the ground?" Lila asked, as though it was the silliest thing she'd ever seen.

Wanda's eyes immediately fell to the ruby ring and they widened. She smirked slightly, looking between Natasha and Steve. She put a hand on Lila's shoulder and was about to lead them out of the room when Cooper caught on to what was happening.

"Did you ask Aunt Nat to marry you?" He asked, as loud as a twelve-year-old boy possibly could. Lila's eyes lit up in excitement and Cassie giggled. Peter blushed until his ears were red.

"Sorry we interrupted," he said, trying to help Wanda corral the younger kids back out the door.

Natasha stopped them. She crouched in front of the little girls and Cooper. "This is not common knowledge yet, got it?"

"A secret?" Cassie asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes – for now," she said. She looked at Lila and Cooper. "Promise?"

Lila held up her pink for a pinky swear and Natasha smiled as she took it. She kissed and hugged all three children – despite Cooper's attempts to pull away – and sent them back outside with Wanda and Peter. She turned to Steve and shook her head.

She fiddled with her phone, setting a timer. "What do you think?" Steve asked, eyes sparkling. "Ten minutes?"

"Five," Natasha responded. "Did you see that look in Lila's eyes?"

"But she pinky promised!" he said with a laugh.

"Oh, she won't tell directly – but she'll figure out something," Natasha told him. She locked the door and walked over to him, kissing him properly. They stood together for several minutes, waiting for the inevitable. A knock sounded on their door and Natasha held up her phone to show Steve that four and a half minutes had passed.

Clint and Laura were on the other side, eyes wide and jaws dropped. "Are you screwing with the kids?" Clint asked. "Because – they think you're getting married."

"Lila did not tell us," Laura said.

"I didn't think she would," Natasha said with a small smile. Clint was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. She stepped back, inviting them in and closing the door behind them.

"So, this is real?" Clint ask. He lifted Natasha's hand and studied the ring. He looked at Steve. "Cap, this – I mean – this is a surprise."

Natasha pulled her hand away and studied her best friend. "I'm not sure how offended I should be at this moment."

"Are you happy?" Clint asked, his voice more demanding than he intended.

"More than I ever expected to be," Natasha responded, a small smile once again playing across her lips. "I'm not an idiot, Clint. I can make this decision myself."

"Of course you can," Laura said, bouncing on her feet a bit before hugging Natasha close. "Congratulations!" Clint studied Natasha and Steve for another moment before adding his congratulations and hugging his long-time friend. He gave Steve a manly hug that ended in them both smacking each other in the back.

"If you hurt her, I'll hunt you. I have vibranium arrows now."

"If I hurt her, she'll hunt me. There'll be nothing left for you."

"True enough." T'Challa heard the news and showed up with his mother, sister, and Sharon – and a very nice bottle of Champaign. Peter and Wanda returned with the kids, who were given fizzle apples juice. Scott and Sam soon joined the party.

"When is this happening?" Laura asked.

"Don't rush them," Clint said, almost whining.

"That has yet to be determined," Natasha said, looking up at Steve. "It doesn't need to be big – drawing attention for any reason is a bad idea right now. And I don't like fussy – Other than that, whatever you want," she said, addressing Steve.

T'Challa raised his glass. "I would be honored if you would consider marrying here, in the palace."

"That would be great," Natasha said, looking at Steve, who nodded his agreement.

"Tonight?" Steve asked. Natasha shrugged.

"There's no reason why not –"

Laura saw where this was going and interrupted. "STOP!" They both looked at her, flabbergasted. "I want at least 72 hours."

"Why?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised.

"Because even if you're on the run from 119 world governments, you should still have a wedding day to remember," a familiar voice said. Natasha smirked as Maria appeared beside Laura. Although she was surprised to see her old friend, Maria didn't look particularly worried. So when Steve smiled and looked down at her, she shrugged with a smile of her own.

"Whatever you want, Captain."

He looked at Laura and winked. "You have 72 hours, ladies." Laura grinned and took Natasha's hand, whipping her away. Maria and Sharon were close behind.

It was the day before the wedding and Natasha was attempting to keep herself busy. She wanted nothing to do with any planning – so she went to the training level, then to the library, and then found Wanda on one of the verandas. "What are you doing?" She asked.

Wanda shrugged. "Enjoying the sunshine. We finished the cake – my job is done."

"Oh good," Natasha said. "You can distract me."

Wanda laughed. "Cold feet?"

"Frozen," she responded. "Nothing that the rest of the Harry Potter marathon can't cure." Wanda stood and they walked together back to the suite. Natasha opened the door and froze, her body blocking Wanda from entering. Then she moved quickly, springing to grab a gun from one of the nearest hiding places. She had it trained on someone standing in the middle of the living room. The entire interaction had taken twenty seconds.

She sighed and tucked the gun into her waistband when the man turned to face her.

"Hello, Natasha," the tall black man said. "Miss Maximoff."

"Should I know you?" Wanda asked.

"No," he answered. "As far as anyone's concerned – I'm a ghost."

"You've very corporeal for a ghost," Wanda said dryly. She was about to close the door when Peter rushed in. He stopped cold when he realized they weren't alone. He looked at the man, then at Natasha.

"What's going on?"

"What's going on, Mr. Parker, is not really your concern. You have somewhere else to be?"

Peter looked at Natasha and she nodded. "It's fine – go find Steve and send him up – don't tell anyone else we have a visitor."

"Are you sure?" he asked, warily eyeing the mystery man.

"Yes," Natasha promised. "I promise, it's fine. Go." She moved toward the man and - to Wanda's surprise – threw her arms around him. "What are you doing here, Nick?"

He laughed as he pulled away. "It's not every day two Avengers get married. I thought I should see it for myself."

She shook her head. "Where have you been? Everything has gone to shit."

"I've noticed," he said. "But you've landed on your feet," he said, looking around the opulent room. "You always do."

"I was lucky this time," she told him. "Not everyone was as fortunate." Steve appeared beside Wanda, consternation in his expression.

"Hi, Nick," he said.

"Rogers," he answered. "Good to see you. I hear congratulations are in order." Wanda crept toward the door and had almost left when Fury turned his attention to her. "Miss Maximoff, I'd ask you to stay." She turned and looked apprehensively at Natasha and Steve. Steve took her hand and led her to one of the sofas. They sat and Natasha and Nick each took a chair.

"I'm certain you're not here to wish us a happy marriage," Natasha told him with a coy smile. "You don't believe in such nonsense."

"That's right," Fury said. "Because it is nonsense. But I guess if anyone can make it work – it might be you two." He looked directly at her. "You seem open to blowing past the proprieties – as usual. So I'll do the same. I hear you have something that can be used to prosecute Ross."

Wanda froze and Steve's face darkened, but Natasha remained loose and calm. "Nick, I don't have anything I'm willing to come forward with at this time."

"So the intelligence world gets caught up in politics and the Avengers go away forever because you're not willing to release one file? Are you the same woman who told the US Government to fuck off and released decades of SHIELD information online?"

Natasha tilted her head. "I did what needed to be done. What you're asking for doesn't need to be done. We'll find something else."

"How is that search going?" He challenged. "You've been working on it for over a year – this is all you have. And Ross is a little creep and a pervert – but this might be the only shot anyone has. He doesn't often make mistakes."

"No," Steve said firmly.

"So, you two make decisions for everyone now? Everyone who has to stay in hiding until Ross is prosecuted? Until Hydra is cleaned out of world governments?"

"Release it," Wanda said softly.

"No," Natasha insisted. "I'm not convinced it's our only option."

"That's because you've gotten personally involved," Fury told her. "I'm not – and I will tell you – this is our chance. There's a vote coming up – and if Ross is discredited in time, the support he needs to win the vote will crumble – the accords will no longer exist."

"I don't just want him discredited," Natasha said. "I want him to answer for his crimes." After Fury left, Natasha and Steve spoke about the possibilities of releasing the file. Wanda listened, but said little. Maria arrived not long after, and became part of the conversation. Nothing was decided – and they gave themselves until after the wedding to think about the ramifications.

Late that night, after Maria had gone, Natasha and Steve knocked on Wanda's bedroom door. She was ready for bed, but stepped aside and let them in. She sat on her bed and Natasha sat next to her. Steve pulled up the desk chair. "We're not going to do something you're not comfortable with."

"It's gone a bit beyond me, at this point," Wanda told her.

"But it affects you. And the way this would have to be released to have any real impact on Ross – it's not going to be pretty. Or neat. Or organized."

"It's going to be a clusterfuck," Steve said, watching as they both turned their eyes to him in utter astonishment.

"Cap, language."

"Well, it is," Steve said. "And I wish there was a way we could just forget about even having it."

"It is possible," Natasha said softly. "That the files could be corrupted."

"No," Wanda said. "What if it's the only way to stop being hunted? I can't put everyone's lives on hold and at risk because I'm humiliated."

"They did something wrong, not you," Natasha reminded her. "But we don't need to make this decision now. It can wait until Sunday. Are you going to be okay until then?" Wanda nodded.

"Yes! I'm fine. I want you to enjoy your wedding. Stop worrying about me." The conversation ended soon after, in good spirits.

Wanda could bake. They had always known it in some sense. At the Avenger's base, the kitchen had always held some type of baked goods. It had taken them about six months to realize that Wanda, and not the housekeeper, was making them. After using T'Challa's kitchens and working with two of his cooks to create a gorgeous three-tiered masterpiece with ribbons of delicious frosting, she had to admit to Laura that, in addition to Pietro's thieving, the survived because she worked for the town baker. In exchange for her long days, they received enough to eat – sometimes.

Laura decorated the smallest ballroom with the help of the children and some of T'Challa's household staff. Peter was extremely helpful in draping lights from the vaulted ceilings. The decorations were tasteful and simple – everything was kept to an elegant, regal quality.

Natasha had been sure that any one of her sundresses was fine, but Pepper had appeared the day before with a trunk full of additional options. Eventually, she decided on an ivory tea-length gown with short sleeves, a v-neck, and a lace detail lining the bottom of the skirt. With a quadruple string of pearls and her loose red curls held up by vintage hair combs, she looked straight out of a 1940s wedding. Which was exactly what she was going for. In a Russian tradition that she had honestly forgotten about, Laura, while helping her prepare, secured the delicate pearl earrings in Natasha's lobes.

"Thank you," Natasha whispered. Her eyes pricked with tears – she wasn't even aware that had meant something to her. Laura kissed her on the cheek, hugged her, and they finished preparing.

Downstairs, Steve had been coerced into his WWII dress uniform – he was a veteran, after all, Sam reminded him. All of their friends and many members of T'Challa's household were present. Tony was on his best behavior standing next to Pepper, who had apparently forgiven him again and rejoined him as his fiancée. She had even supervised – along with Natasha and Steve – an apology from Tony to Wanda. The young witch had accepted it, but was still extremely wary of him. But he was bright and happy on the day of the wedding.

Natasha was growing impatient. She yelled from the top of the sweeping staircase, out of their sight. "Can we do this already?"

"Be patient, woman," Tony bellowed back.

"I'll murder you, Stark!"

"Wait until after the honeymoon, please," Steve called. Once Laura and Maria looked everything over and proclaimed they were ready, Sharon motioned for the quartet to begin. Music filled the ballroom. Clint waggled his eyebrows at Natasha.

"I think that's for you."

"No," Wanda corrected him, coming up from behind Natasha in a dark red dress. "That's for us." She winked at Cassie and Lila, who giggled. At first, Natasha had told everyone that a wedding party was a terrible idea. Then she saw the tiny white dresses Pepper had brought for the little girls, and it was a done deal. Wanda turned to look at Natasha. She embraced her and whispered into her ear.

"где есть любовь, там есть мир." An old Russian wedding blessing.

"да," Natasha responded with a warm smile. She kissed Wanda's cheek and waved her to the front of the landing – she really wanted to get this started. Wanda walked first down the stairs and into the beautifully decorated room, and down the aisle – created by chairs – to stand across from Sam. Cassie and Lila walked in next, carrying beautiful little baskets of flowers that they merrily threw everywhere. No one could help but grin at them, even Nick Fury. All eyes flew to the doorway as the music changed to Tchaikovsky.

"I don't believe I asked for this to be Russian," Natasha muttered to Clint.

His eyes twinkled. "Are you disappointed, though?"

"Shut up."

He smirked. "Come on, everyone is waiting for you, my friend." She walked to the top of the stairs on Clint's arm. A collective breath was taken as she stepped into view. Maria uncharacteristically clasped her hands. Sharon beamed from her place beside the kind. The little girls, now standing in front of Laura in the first row, giggled happily. Steve was unabashedly staring.

At the end of the aisle, Clint kissed Natasha and handed her over to Steve. "She's not actually yours, Captain. You still have to share. She's still my best friend – and a lot of things to a lot of people. Treat her right, or I kill you."

"If I don't, I'll let you," Steve responded.

"Are you boys done?" Natasha practically purred, her hands now in Steve's. "I would like to get married today."

"Yes ma'am, Steve answered, grinning down at her.

* * *

 

Thanks for reading! It's moving fast at this point – and I hope it doesn't hurt the character development I've been building throughout the story – but the alternative of taking it slow and possibly never finishing this is far less palatable to me. I hope you enjoyed this – please do leave a comment. I will try to get the next chapter up by this time next week. Just a few chapters to go.


	14. Compounding Complications

Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and comments. I usually respond to them individually and haven't had time this weekend - but will get to them early this week. Thanks for reading and leaving your thoughts.

* * *

Chapter 14 – Complications

Later that night, after quite a bit of dancing and lots of delicious food, the Avengers present gathered around the fireplace. Tony flicked his wrist at Steve and Natasha. "So, where are you going on your honeymoon? Hawaii? Paris? Brazil? I have a great place in Tahiti –"

"We're not going on a honeymoon," Natasha responded, rolling her eyes at Tony. "One, we're still fugitives. Two, we are not leaving Wanda and Peter here – or anywhere else."

"She's right," Steve replied, reaching out to rub her silk-stocking clad toes. She was curled comfortably into his lap, her shoes forgotten over the side of the sofa.

"The children will be safe here," T'Challa said.

"We know that," Steve assured him. "Your hospitality has been beyond compare – and we can't thank you enough for it. But we're not comfortable right now leaving them – even if it were completely safe. It's not the right time."

Peter looked up from where he was sprawled on the carpet in front of the fireplace, playing a game of chess with Cooper. "Seriously? You were just married and you want to drag us around?"

"We can't be avengers right now – and we certainly can't be private citizens under our own identities. What else is there to do?" Natasha teasingly asked him, and Wanda - who was curled into a nearby chair. She had almost been sleeping before this line of inquiry had begun. "Did you really expect us to leave you here? Or with Fury?" The last was a joke, one that amused her greatly.

"I heard that, Romanoff!" Fury bellowed from across the room where he had been speaking with Sam and Laura. "Do I look like a babysitter? You claimed those kids – you keep them." The exact reaction Natasha had been wanting; she smiled.

"See?" She said.

"I'm not a child," Wanda answered.

"No one said you were," Natasha soothed.

"He just did!" The older woman shrugged, giving her that one.

* * *

The day after the wedding, T'Challa's mother hosted a lovely lunch in the gardens to say goodbye to Maria, Nick, Tony, and Pepper. Most of the adults sat at a long table, eating a delicious meal and drinking the best vintages. Wanda slipped away from the table after she realized that all of the children were gone. She smiled as she came upon the girls in the corner of the inner garden, playing a game on the flagstone with colorful marbles. Nathaniel was in the grass beside them, tearing up the blades and giggling at himself for doing so. "What is Nathaniel doing over here?" Wanda asked, crouching down by the toddler.

"He was bored too," Lila informed her. "He came with us." Wanda heard another rhythmic sound and peaked around the hedge closest to her – Peter and Cooper were dribbling a basketball on the decorative stone slabs just behind them. She stood up again, lifting Nathaniel as she did. She felt something turn – something go wrong enough to almost suck the air from her lungs. Peter felt it too, she knew as soon as she saw his expression darken. They both turned quickly to see an invasion begin.

The world seemed to move in slow motion, then speed up quickly enough to make her queasy. She screamed after a bullet barely missed Clint as the man rolled out of his chair at the end of the table. The other adults sprang to life quickly, Natasha immediately locating and distributing several guns. She had them hidden everywhere. Peter and Cooper were now standing beside Wanda, next to the little girls, who were wide-eyed as the real shooting began.

Wanda pushed Cooper towards his sister and created a red bubble around the children, handing the baby to Lila before stepping outside of the perimeter to give herself more control. An explosion hit the dome of the bubble almost as soon as it was solid, causing Wanda to wince and Peter to spring into action of his own. He attacked the closest men, confining them in his webbing and leaving them helpless on the ground. Wanda sent dozens of hexes at the attackers – near and far - helping until she realized that it was weakening her too much and too quickly. She considered her chances of getting the children to safety – none of her options were feasible. Finally, she accepted that she was doing the best she could – all she could in that moment.

She deflected weapons, grenades, and bullets that came near her or the children. Peter helped keep away the things aimed directly at her. Someone was getting their sadistic jollies by trying to directly hit the children. After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the men had finally stopped streaming in from the palace. Steve had gotten to his new shield and was using it to fight several men at once. T'Challa had somehow ended up with his suit and was holding off a bevy of men. Tony didn't have his entire suit, but he had plenty of weapons. Pepper was beating a man with what looked to be a silver serving platter. Surprisingly, Laura was wielding a gun with the practice and confidence seen in Sharon and Maria.

Wanda sank to her knees as her vision swam, keeping the bubble of energy surrounding the children while the rest of the Avengers fought. After one of the enemy soldiers was all but decapitated by Steve's new shield, she turned to face them. "Close your eyes," she ordered softly. She should have thought of it sooner, she realized in a tired haze. Lily and Cassie did, clinging to one another – and the baby. Copper stood behind, hugging them close. Nathaniel whined his objection to being held in one spot, but he quieted when Wanda shushed him. Finally, she heard the melee stop – and Steve's, T'Challa's, and Tony's voices rose above the remaining din. She didn't move. She remained there until she felt someone approaching. She knew right away that it was Natasha.

"Wanda, it's okay. You can take it down." Slowly, she let the energy fade. Cooper and Lila rushed at her, hugging her. She tried to hug them back but she was feeling a bit listless, something her own guardian noticed. Laura appeared, face streaked with dust and tears. She hugged and kissed Wanda, whispering things that the young woman didn't quite understand. Then she took the children and disappeared. Wanda was left, collapsed into a sitting position, staring at the plants that made up that corner of the inner garden, her brain trying desperately to keep up with what was happening.

Natasha saw the expression, the hunch in her shoulders, and knew that she'd used too much power – that she'd gone too far. She sank to the ground next to the young woman and wrapped her arms around her. "It's okay, sweetheart. You did a great job – everyone is safe."

In the end, Steve needed to lift her into his arms and carry her to her bedroom. Wanda was completely out of it – she never saw the spilled blood and dead guards all over the first floor of the palace. Despite itching to be involved in the investigation, Peter dutifully sat with Wanda while Steve and Natasha went back to the macabre scene to figure out what had happened. Maria and Sharon were already interrogating one of the surviving perpetrators of the attack. The questioning and investigation of the scene kept them all busy for hours.

When Steve and Natasha returned, Peter stood from his spot on the chair in Wanda's room. "We have to go," Natasha told him. "T'Challa's guards were massacred. We don't know if these forces were sent through official channels, or if they were paid off privately. But they were not looking to take any prisoners."

"They're just trying to kill us now?" Peter asked.

"That appears to be the new plan," Steve told him. "Or at least one person's new plan. We need to go – all being here together is too dangerous for everyone."

Before nightfall, they all had made plans to leave. They goodbyes they were able to say were painful. When Wanda woke, she was in the car on the way to the private royal airstrip. She didn't ask where they were going – she had neither the energy nor the care. She heard them all talking, but no one tried to converse with her – which was good, considering she was having a difficult time focusing.

"Do you want to try to walk?" Steve asked, once the car stopped. Wanda nodded, which hurt her entire head, so she winced. Steve exited the car first and reached back to help her. She was able to walk to the plane, but he still had to support most of her weight. Once they were in the air, Wanda found the energy to speak.

"Are the children ok?" She saw their terrified little faces every time she closed her eyes.

Natasha reached over and squeezed her hand. "They're fine – not a scratch."

"Where are they?"

"Clint and Laura took their kids and went one way – Sam decided to stick with Scott and Cassie and they're headed another." Wanda nodded. She had been unconscious through the goodbyes. Natasha studied her carefully. "How do you feel?"

Wanda shrugged and shook her head; everything hurt, but she was also kind of numb. She wasn't sure how to square that information. She eventually agreed to take painkillers and she tried to fall asleep, but that failed, so she spent the remainder of the trip in silence, thinking about their situation.

The peace they'd built in Wakanda hadn't been likely to last long – she'd always known that. But it still hurt. It was the closest she'd had to normalcy in her life. Peter was also particularly quiet on the flight, quietly reading or staring out the window, not really saying anything unless he was asked a direct question.

They traveled to three different locations in two days before Natasha finally insisted they stop. Steve wanted to keep going to further obliterate any possible trail, but his partner knew Wanda couldn't handle any more travel. He knew it too, when he stopped in his own grief long enough to look. "She has to stop, Steve," Natasha said quietly. He looked at Wanda, sitting next to Peter, and observed how glassy her eyes looked. He nodded, despite being uncomfortable. They left the train in London and checked into a very nice hotel.

"Call for food before you shower, okay?" Natasha asked. Steve nodded, leaning down to kiss her before she could keep walking. She kissed him back and then broke away, leading Wanda into the suite they'd checked into.

"I will help you shower and change, but then it's into bed," Natasha informed her. Wanda rolled her eyes but didn't argue; she knew she didn't have enough energy to fight. And in all honesty, a shower and bed sounded luxuriously perfect. Once Wanda was refreshed and clean, she burrowed into soft pajamas and allowed herself to be tucked into bed.

They remained in London for another three days while Wanda rested and Natasha and Steve planned for their next move. On the third day, Wanda got out of bed for more than just necessity. She showered, changed into something that was not pajamas, and walked into the small living space of the suite. Natasha looked up from her laptop and smiled in greeting.

"Good morning."

Wanda looked around for a clock as she realized that she had no idea what time it was. Natasha clearly understood that. "It's just after nine," she told her. She finished typing and stood, walking to the small kitchen area. She turned on the tea kettle and picked up a plate, which she carried back to Wanda. The younger woman accepted the plate and immediately began spreading a small amount of cream cheese on a bagel. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until there was food directly in front of her.

"Where are Steve and Peter?"

"Shopping," Natasha told her. "We didn't bring much – and we certainly didn't bring enough warm clothing to spend the winter in Ireland."

"Is that where we're going?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes. I'm waiting for Maria to arrange a drop for our new identification papers. The new house is not far from a university – do you want to stay your own age and enroll?"

Wanda's eyes lit up before she even had a chance to properly consider it. Once she did – she nodded. "I thought you might," Natasha said, handing her a catalog from a pile of things on the table. Wanda took it – it was a course catalog for the university.

"12-15 is a normal semester – but you do not have to take that many," Natasha told her. Wanda nodded as she began flipping through the book. "Maybe start slow."

They had lived in their sleepy little town in Ireland for two weeks. The weather outside was dreary – storm clouds and rain as far as the eye could see. According to the forecast, it would stop soon – and they all hoped it to be true. The landscape was gorgeous – and they would like to explore it without galoshes and rain coats.

Wanda was curled on the living room sofa, reading a classic novel. Peter was playing a video game, on mute in respect for not being the only person in the room. They both startled when they heard a loud thump from upstairs. They both moved slightly, prepared to spring into action. They stared at one another as they waited to hear more, to discover what was happening. The next crash rattled the walls and Wanda reached up silently to still a watercolor above her head. She gingerly reached out with her mind, just to peak – just to be sure. The red mist retracted quickly and her eyes widened. Then she blushed deeply.

"Are they okay?"

"Fine," Wanda said, her voice clipped and higher pitched than normal. His eyes widened with realization at what she had discovered. His face flushed to his ears.

"Are they?"

"Don't talk about it," she ordered. Another loud noise.

"Library?" He asked. "They're open until 6."

Wanda nodded and stood, going into the kitchen. She picked up a piece of red chalk and scrawled a quick note on the decoratively framed blackboard in the kitchen. _Went to the Library ~ W &P_ Peter picked up another piece of chalk – this one blue – and added to the bottom: _this place needs soundproofed; I'm irreparably damaged ~ P_. Wanda smiled at him in amusement and handed him an umbrella, grabbing one for herself before opening the door and leading the way.

When Natasha and Steve were finished, they dressed and walked together into the kitchen. It was almost time to start dinner and she'd asked him to make hamburgers – one of the few things he was very good at in the kitchen. Her eyes filled with mirth as she took in the note. "Not sure if I should feel guilty – but I'm kind of proud that he knows how to spell irreparably."

"This wasn't an issue before," Steve said, looking both confused and guilty.

"I have a feeling the palace's walls were thicker than these," Natasha reminded him, smirking. He blushed deeply and she chuckled, going to the refrigerator to pull out the ingredients for their meal.

* * *

Three weeks after they arrived in Ireland, the news broke. Natasha had been waiting for it – but she thought she'd receive warning. Instead, while watching the morning news on a Tuesday, they were hit with the headline. Scarlet Witch tortured and gang raped by high ranking military officials, including secretary of state Ross. The guards – lower ranking military men – were also mentioned in the stories. But the headlines were all about Ross and his part in the despicable acts. The newscasters questioned Wanda's whereabouts, but they had nothing. There was a grainy photo taken in Germany – but it wasn't of her.

Luckily, Natasha saw the headlines before anyone woke that morning – and quickly disabled the internet and cable. Sure that Peter wouldn't accidentally see anything, she went up the stairs to Wanda's room. The younger woman was preparing for her second day of classes. Her door was already open, and she was in the process of fixing her hair using a curling iron and the mirror above her dresser. She smiled in greeting when she saw Natasha, but her expression fell as soon as the older woman closed the door.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"The video hit the news this morning," Natasha told her. Wanda set down the curling iron before her hands could begin to tremble.

"We knew it would come eventually," Wanda said simply, not turning towards her. She sat on her bed and sighed. She visibly steeled herself, closing her eyes for a moment. "It will become old news in time."

"It will," Natasha agreed. "But it may take some time." Wanda nodded. "What do you want to do about Peter?" Peter didn't know that the video existed – and also didn't know many details about Wanda's captivity. They wouldn't be able to protect him against the ugly truth now.

"I don't want to talk about it," Wanda said. "Tell him whatever you think is best." She picked up the styling wand, finished the few strands that were left, and then unplugged it. She clasped a necklace around her throat, slipped on rings and bracelets, and grabbed her backpack and jacket from the bench at the end of her bed. "I'll be back this afternoon. Classes end at 2."

"Are you sure you want to go?" Natasha asked.

"I can't let them have any more of my life," Wanda said simply. "Besides, no one knows who I am here."

"That doesn't mean you won't be faced with it," she warned her, gently. Televisions would be tuned to the coverage all over campus – people would be discussing it at every turn.

Wanda nodded. "I know. See you later." She left the room – and the house – much quicker than normal. Natasha sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her. She walked past Peter's room and saw that he was still in bed, playing with an iPad.

"Is something wrong with the internet?" He asked.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for school?"

Peter shrugged. "I like to watch last night's comedians while I get ready. It's how I get my news," he said with a smirk. Natasha smiled sadly at him.

"Internet's out," she told him. "Come downstairs as soon as you're ready." She didn't say it, but her expression clearly indicated that they needed to talk, which immediately send Peter into a cold sweat.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong right now," she told him honestly. "An older incident came up that we need to talk about. We'll talk downstairs," she said, walking to her bedroom to make sure Steve was awake. He was – and ready to go.

"Why do you look like someone stole your Widow's bites?" Steve asked, teasing.

"The video dropped last night or early this morning," she told him. His expression fell and his eyes grew dark with a deep rage and deeper sadness. "We have to talk to Peter about it before he sees it for himself." He nodded solemnly and followed her down the stairs.

Peter had already known something was wrong when he'd seen Natasha upstairs, but when he walked into the kitchen and felt the tension, his skin prickled. He sat at the breakfast table where a toasted bagel with peanut butter had already been set out for him, along with a glass of milk. His stomach wasn't feeling up to it, but it kept him occupied, so he began nibbling at the breakfast food. Natasha was sipping tea while Steve tapped his fingers against his coffee cup.

"Okay, what's going on?"

"Do you know where Wanda was, after the battle in Berlin?" Natasha asked. It was better to just get right to the point.

Peter nodded. "She was arrested – she was in the Raft with Sam and Scott and Clint – until Steve and Bucky got them out." Natasha nodded.

"Has she said anything about what happened there?"

Peter paled. He had clearly heard something. "No," he said. "I heard things – from other people – when they didn't know I was listening. But she didn't tell me anything. And that's her choice – I mean, I don't want to know anything unless she wants me to know."

Natasha sighed as Steve's hand fell to rest on her knee. She pursed her lips before looking Peter in the eye and continuing. "Unfortunately, it's not an option anymore. It's not her choice. There was video of what happened. It's been released to the press."

"Who would do that?" Peter asked, almost knocking his glass over as he motioned wildly with his hands. Milk sloshed over the sides before the glass resettled. "Why would anyone?" His face was red and they saw an emotion that he normally didn't embrace often; anger. "Didn't they do enough to her already?" Steve and Natasha had no answer for that – because yes, they had done enough damage to Wanda to last a lifetime. And it didn't seem to be stopping yet.

They offered him the general story, indicating what had happened in as little detail as possible. They explained who had been involved – and what the repercussions were going to be. "Hopefully, they'll take Ross to court over this," Natasha said. "If they do, it could mean the possible appeal of the Sokovian Accords. T'Challa is already working on it from his end – he's gotten a lot of world leaders on his side."

Peter's eyes widened as the pieces of the puzzle fell together in his brain. Devastation crossed his expression and tears sprang to his eyes as he looked between Natasha and Steve. "Did you?" He couldn't even ask the question.

"It was ultimately Wanda's decision," Natasha told him. "She knew what the stakes were. She gave her permission. I was willing to destroy the evidence."

"But you are the one who gave it to the media?" Peter asked, his voice filled with confusion. He didn't want this to be true – didn't understand the world in which this was true.

"Peter, listen to what Natasha just said," Steve said gently. "Wanda knew. She made her decision."

"Did you really give her a choice?" He spat. "So, we're just using Wanda to get out of hiding? How is that okay?"

Natasha's eyes didn't leave his and her expression was stoic but then softened a bit. "Do you really think we gave her no choice?"

"No," Peter cried, laying his head on his arms. "It's just not fair." He dissolved into tears, his brain spiraling through all of the unfairness that had plagued his world since he'd become Spiderman. Natasha and Steve sat with him, occasionally rubbing his back or giving him a hug.

Natasha tried to speak to him softly, reminded him to breathe – but a panic attack came anyway – and left Peter exhausted. The teen allowed himself to be led back to his bedroom and tucked into bed and eventually cried himself to sleep.

"Does he really think we would do this without Wanda's permission?" Steve asked.

"No," Natasha said calmly. "He wants someone to blame. He'll calm down. Can you stick around here? I'm going to go take a walk around campus – I can't imagine Wanda's morning is going well." Steve nodded and sat in Peter's desk chair while Natasha went to find her jacket and purse. Twenty minutes later, she was walking down the winding paths of the picturesque university. She found herself in a garden area outside the building where Wanda's current class was being held – and sat on one of the iron benches.

"You didn't have to come," Wanda said half an hour later, when she found Natasha and sat next to her. The older woman could see that her eyes were raw from crying.

"How are you holding up?"

"I hate people," she said softly.

"Yeah, sometimes people deserve it."

Wanda shook her head and closed her eyes, sucking her breath between her teeth. "Most are fine. But some claim I was asking for it – or that I liked it – some such nonsense."

"You know that's not true."

"It doesn't make it less disgusting," Wanda answered.

"No, it doesn't."

"I can't help but hear them. I tried listening to music – but I can still hear them."

"Superpowers suck sometimes." They talked for another half an hour until Wanda said she had to go – or she'd be late to her next class. Natasha gave her another opportunity to bail, but she didn't take it. She pecked the older woman on the cheek, squared her shoulders, and walked to her next class. She was not going to allow this to break her. Not again.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please leave a line (or 20 - whatever floats your boat) letting me know what you think.


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